
gass T^t<o ^ 

Book l\5'5' 



1^11- 



AT PRIOR PARK 

AND OTHER PAPERS 




PRIOR PARK: GARDEN FRONT 

(from a photograph) 



AT PRIOR PARK 

AND OTHER PAPERS 

BY 

AUSTIN DOBSON 



Ne nous servons 
point de paroles 
plus grandcs que 
les choses. 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 






.A^^ 



'f^/^ 



CHISWICK PRESS : CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 



TO 

SIR ALFRED BATEMAN, K.C.M.G. 

My dear Bateman, 

I think you have done me the hon- 
our of reading some of these papers in their 
periodical form. This — in my opinion — should 
of itself suffice to distinguish you from those 
who have not made an equally commendable 
use of their opportunities. But I have another 
motive in dedicating this volume to you. For 
more than forty years I have enjoyed the 
privilege of your friendship, which is a better 
testimony to your powers of longsuffering 
than if I proffered you a certificate of heroic 
endurance as a student of fugitive prose. 

Sincerely yours, 
-^ Austin Dobson. 



PRE FA TOR Y NO TE 

Apart from the statement that these papers 
first appeared in the ' National Review^ there 
is little to say respecting the'tn which they can- 
not say for themselves. But in revising and 
arranging them for issue in book-form, my 
obligations have been considerable. I have to 
tender my thanks to Mr. Thomas Gordott Duff 
of Drummuir for particulars of his valuable 
Carmontelle drawings, and for reference to the 
' Souvenirs ' of the Baron de Frenilly ; to Mr. 
T. Sturge Cotterell of Bath for the interesting 
photograph of Prior Park which forms my 
frontispiece ; and to the former owners of the 
recently-discovered Fielding Letters for leave to 
verify my extracts from the originals when at 
Messrs. Sotheby's. I am further indebted to 
my friends the Rev. William. Hunt and Mr. 
David Hannay for helpful hints in connection 
with the Bailli de Suffren, and to Mr. Hannay 
especially for the loan of Gerard's portrait, 
here copied. The Governors of the Dulwich 



viii Prefatory Note 

Gallery {thi'ough Mr. H. Yates Thompson) 
have also been kind enough to allow me to 
reproduce Gainsborough's beautiful likeness of 
Loutherbourg. Finally, I must record my ac- 
knowledgments to Miss Dorothy Jennings, 
Mr. Emery Walker {the present occupant of 
Loutherbourg' s old residence at Hammersmith 
Tei'race), Mr. Samuel Martin, Chief Librarian 
of the Hammersmith Public Libraries, and Mr. 
Walter W. Sadler of the Dyce and Forster 
Library at South Kensington, for assistance in 
illuminating some of the obscurer corners of the 
painter's career. 

A us TIN DOBSON. 
September 1912 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

At Prior Park i 

The Portraits of Carmontelle ... 32 

Garrick's ' Grand Tour' .... 62 

Loutherbourg, R.A. 94 

A Fielding ' Find' 128 

The BaILLI DE SUFFREN . ... 150 

Eighteenth-Century Stowe .... 180 

Robert Lloyd . 210 

Gray's Biographer 24.3 

Appendix A (Carmontelle's Transparencies) 275 

Appendix B (Exhibitions of the Eidophusi- 

kon) . 277 

Appendix C and Postscript (Death of the 

Bailli de Suffren) 282 



Index 



289 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Prior Park: Garden Front. From a Photo- 
graph Frontispiece 

Carmontelle. By Himself to face page 4-8 

The Two Garricks. By Carmontelle 

to face page 68 

'LouTHERBOURG. From the Portrait by Gains- 
borough in the Dulwich Gallery to face page 94. 

The Bailli de Suffren. From the Portrait by 

Francois Gerard to face page 150 

Princess Amelia's Arch at Stowe. From the 

Engraving by Thomas Mediand to face page 202 



AT PRIOR PARK 

HENRY FIELDING has many memories 
in Bath — some definite, some doubtful ; 
some of long standing, others of more recent 
discovery. One of his occasional pieces was an 
impromptu in the Pump Room to a shadowy 
' Miss H — land ' — a performance which preserves 
the name of that once popular physician and 
translator of * Persius,' Dr. Thomas Brewster, 
who afterwards attended the philosopher Square; 
a second, entitled 'Plain Truth,' is the panegyric 
of another Cynthia of the minute. Miss Betty 
Dalston, apparently the sister of a local minor 
poet. At the then-secluded church of St. Mary, 
Charlcombe, Fielding married his first wife, 
Charlotte Cradock of Salisbury; from Bath, ten 
years later, with loving and lavish ceremonial, 
he brought her dead body to London for inter- 
ment in the chancel vault of St. Martin's-in- 
the-Fields.' Around Bath, rather than elsewhere, 
cluster most of the traditions connected with the 
composition of his greatest novel — that master- 
' Godden's 'Henry Fielding,' 1910, p. 153. 
B 



2 At Prior Park 

piece for which a later Bath frequenter, Mr. 
Samuel Richardson (the wish being father to the 
thought) predicted the duration of a firework. 
Parts of the book, it is quite possible, may have been 
written at Salisbury, at Twickenham, at Barnes 
Common, and half a dozen other places ; but a 
large proportion was undoubtedly penned within 
sound of the Abbey bells; and if not at Wid- 
combe House or Prior Park, either at the modest 
villa on the Avon at Twerton with the phoenix 
crest over the door, or at the still humbler retreat 
in Church Lane, now dignified into a ' Lodge,' 
where its author so often sought sanctuary with 
his sister Sarah. From the 'little parlour' at 
Yew Cottage, as it was then called, if anywhere, 
must have issued that proud invocation to Fame at 
the beginning of Book Thirteen — an invocation 
which, it may be observed, has enjoyed the excep- 
tional advantage of being heard. But of all the 
associations that connect Fielding with the 'Queen 
of the West,' there is none more ancient and less 
uncertain than that which links him with Ralph 
Allen, the * Squire Allworthy ' of ' Tom Jones.' 
As it is with Allen's residence and friends 
rather than with Allen and his biography, that 
we are for the present concerned, it can hardly be 
needful to deal at length with the oft-told story 



At Prior Park 3 

of the circumstances which raised him from ob- 
scurity to opulence. But, remembering the useful 
caveat of Pope that 

Men must be taught as if you taught them not, 
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot, 

no great harm can be done by ' reminding ' the 
reader briefly of the leading facts of his career. 
Ralph Allen was the son of the landlord of the 
'Duke William' or ' Old Duke ' Inn at St. Blazey 
in Cornwall. His grandmother kept the post- 
office at St. Columb, not many miles away; and 
being employed here as a boy, his alertness and 
intelligence attracted the notice of the district 
surveyor, in consequence of which he was trans- 
ferred to the Bath Post Office. He had inborn 
gifts for organisation ; and his foot once on the 
ladder, his ascent was assured. The timely dis- 
covery of a projected English rising in connection 
with Mar's rebellion, procured him at once the 
favour of the Ministry; the patronage of General 
(afterwards Marshal) Wade, then stationed at 
Bath ; and, in due course, the office of Bath Post- 
master. In this capacity he set about the much- 
needed task of reforming the very rudimentary 
postal service. In those days, the days of the 
first George, except over certain radial routes to 
and from the capitals of the three kingdoms. 



4 At Prior Park 

there was practically no transmission of mails, 
and bye or lateral communication between county 
and county or town and town, was of the most 
dilatory and circuitous description. Although a 
Post Office Act of 171 1 had afforded scope for 
what are known as ' cross-posts,' nothing much 
had been done.^ Nine years later, Allen, being 
then no more than six and twenty, took up the 
work. He obtained a concession from the Go- 
vernment empowering him to establish better 
methods, and virtually to re-arrange, in these re- 
spects, the entire letter-carrying machinery of 
England and Wales. For this he had to pay a 
heavy annual ' consideration ' ; and his first essays 
were necessarily made at a loss. But in the end 
his energy and resource triumphed over every 
obstacle; and although, on subsequent renewal 
of the contract, the rent was raised, his profits by 
degrees became so considerable as to make him a 
rich man. By the simultaneous exploitation of 

1 ' A bye or luay letter would be a letter passing be- 
tween any two towns on the Bath Road and stopping 
short of London — as, for instance, between Bath and 
Hungerford, between Hungerford and Newbury, between 
Newbury and Reading, and so on ; while a cross-post letter 
would be a letter crossing from the Bath Road to some 
other — as, for instance, a letter between Batli and Oxford.' 
(Joyce's 'History of the Post Office,' 1893, p. 147.) 



A t Prior Park 5 

the valuable oolite quarries at Hampton and 
Combe Downs near Bath, he not only materially 
increased his already ample means, but added to 
the architectural beauty of the town, while his 
generous use of his wealth earned him the merited 
reputation of a public benefactor. He died in 
June 1764, aged seventy-one, and is buried under 
a beautiful mausoleum in Claverton churchyard. 
He was twice married, his second wife, Elizabeth 
Holder, surviving him. A monument was erected 
to him on a part of his estate, which is also a 
monument to the bad taste of his heir, Bishop 
Warburton. 

With the historical ' Bath stone ' of the re- 
opened quarries at Combe and Hampton Downs 
is also connected that famous mansion which 
must always be remembered with Ralph Allen's 
name. For many years his town residence had 
been a house to the rear of York Street in Lilli- 
put Alley (now part of North Parade Passage);* 

^ In Lilllput Alley, the Lilliputian historian delights to 
remark, once lived the celebrated Sally Lun of the tea-cake 
and the ballad-mongers : 

' No more I heed the muffin's zest, 

The Yorkshire cake or bun j 
Sweet Muse of Pastry! teach me how 

To make a " Sally Lun." ' 



6 At Prior Park 

but in later life he migrated to Prior Park, a house 
he had built on Widcombe Hill, a little to the 
south-east of Bath, and commanding through a 
hollow a fine view of the city, four hundred feet 
below. Its origin was on this wise. Bath stone 
was beginning to be used freely, not only for 
facings and ornamentation, but for building;^ 
and gradually what is now known as modern 
Bath was slowly coming into shape and being. 
Queen Square, begun in 1728, was finished in 
1735, in which latter year the North and South 
Parades were also completed. But Bath stone had 
a formidable competitor in Portland stone, and 
bitter enemies in the London architects, who 
contemptuously compared it, both for colour and 
durability, to Cheshire cheese. All these preju- 
dices Allen's patience had to overcome, not with- 
out difficulty ; and he resolved to give the adversary 
an object-lesson in the matter by building, in the 
neighbourhood of his Combe Down works, a 

' The house in St. John's Place now known as the 
Garrick's Head, and once inhabited by Richard Nash, 
was one of the earliest examples of Bath Stone decoration. 
Mrs. Delany and Miss Berry afterwards lived in it. There 
is a good representation of it in J. F. Median's interesting 
'Famous Houses of Bath, etc.,' 1901, 41 — a work in 
which, following the precept of Linnaeus, the author has 
worthily commemorated his locality. 



A^ Prior Park 7 

sumptuovis mansion of Bath stone, which should 
not only exhibit the superlative quality of the 
maligned material both for ornamentation and 
construction, but ilkistrate and exemplify the 
' Orders of Architecture in all their glory.' 
Modified, as might be expected, by after-con- 
siderations, and less ambitious in the execution 
than in the conception, Prior Park was begun 
about 1735. Its erection completely vindicated 
the capabilities of oolite; while the concurrent 
construction of the General, or Mineral Water 
Hospital (1738-42), to which Allen, besides a 
donation of ^^ 1,000, presented all the necessary 
stonework, certainly did not diminish the prestige 
of the proprietor of the quarries. 

John Wood, the architect, and first of the 
name, who, it should also be stated, gave his pro- 
fessional services to the Hospital gratis, describes 
Prior Park as consisting of ' a Mansion House in 
the center, two Pavilions, and two Wings of 
Offices. All these are united by low buildings, 
and while the chief Part of the whole Line fronts 
the Body of the City, the rest faces the summit of 
Mar's H'lll^ namely — Mount Beacon, or Lans- 
down. The first part of this short description 
suggests a superficial affinity to Stowe,^ and pro- 
' See post, ' Eighteenth-Century Stowe.' 



8 At Prior Park 

bably to other eighteenth-century country-seats. 
The central structure, in the Corinthian style on 
a rustic basement, occupied 150 out of the 1200 
feet of the frontage, and rose from a terrace 100 
feet below the summit of Combe Down. The 
entrance was in the south front ; on the north 
front, or garden side, stood a stately six-column 
portico, intended by its designer to rival and even 
excel that erected for Sir Richard Child, at Wan- 
stead House in Essex, by Campbell of Greenwich 
Hospital, one of the most determined detractors 
of Bath Stone. Between its Ionic pillars were 
balustrades converting the whole into an alfresco 
pavilion from which it was possible at once to 
enjoy the air and the magnificent view of distant 
Bath.^ Below the terrace on which the house 
was built, the ground sloped gradually in lawn 
and garden beds; while a spring from the summit, 
falling by careful lapses and contrived cascades, 
found its way at last into a lake, well stocked 
with fish, about a quarter of a mile distant. At 
the head of this lake there was, as at Stowe, a 
Palladian Bridge, a copy by Richard Jones, Allen's 
factotum and clerk of the works, of that erected 
by Lord Pembroke at Wilton in Wiltshire. Jones 
was also responsible for the west wing of the 
^ See the frontispiece to this volume. 



At Prior Park 9 

house which was finished after Allen had dis- 
pensed with the services of his original architect 
Wood, who died in 1754. To complete the re- 
semblance to Stowe, it may be added that, in 
1752, soon after the erection of the Palladian 
Bridge, Prior Park was visited by the Princess 
Amelia ; and Allen, retiring himself to another 
seat he had at Weymouth, surrendered the house 
to his illustrious guest. But there is no record 
that he erected a Doric Arch in Her Royal High- 
ness's honourj nor on this occasion had she any 
Walpole in her suite to play Polonius, and 
chronicle her diversions. 

Prior Park, apparently, was not like Stowe, a 
treasure-house of works of art, or even a museum 
of curiosities. But it is nearly as memorable by 
its visitors, some of whom, for example — Pitt 
and Pope, were common to both places. The 
first-comer, in point of time, as well as in promin- 
ence, was Pope. Pope's relations with Allen 
were, however, more creditable to the host than 
the guest ; and they constitute one of the more 
equivocal chapters of Pope's equivocal biography. 
They cover the last eight years of his life; and 
arose out of the issue, from ' Curll's chaste press,' 
of his so-called spurious or pirated correspond- 
ence. With this, it will be remembered. Pope 



lO At Prior Park 

professed to be indignant, although in reaUty he 
was an accessary. Allen, one of whose most en- 
gaging qualities, in addition to simplicity, seems 
to have been a genuine veneration for goodness, 
was struck by the highly edifying sentiments 
which the letters expressed; and in order to en- 
sure their reproduction in authentic form, wrote 
to Pope offering to pay the cost of a new edition. 
Pope replied with polite ambiguity, promising to 
avail himself of Allen's proposal, should it become 
necessary. Thereupon Allen busied himself actively 
in soliciting subscriptions to the folio and quarto 
issues of 1737. His advocacy was very genuine 
and effective, and indeed there is every reason 
to believe that, as suggested by the poet himself 
in one of his unpublished letters to Allen now 
in the British Museum,^ his enthusiasm supplied 
rather more of the subscriptions than are assigned 
to his name. In any case, this marks the begin- 
ning of the friendship between the Man of Bath 
and the ' Twit'nam Bard.' Pope, who was a 
pioneer in the matter of landscape gardening, 
went on to advise Allen in the laying-out of Prior 

1 Quotations from these letters (E.G. 194-7), whicli 
extend from 1736 to 1744., were made, for the first time, 
in vol. ii. of ' George Paston's ' ' Mr. Pope : His Life and 
Times/ 1909. 



A t Prior Park 1 1 

Park, then in progress ; and Allen in return con- 
tributed curious incrustations and perforated stones 
from the Combe Down quarries to that famous 
grotto by the Thames which was the plaything 
of Pope's declining days. Pope sent Surrey pine- 
apples, and Allen replied with Somerset waters. 
In 1738 Allen formally visited Pope at Twicken- 
ham ; and the November of the follovi^ing year 
found the poet domiciled at Prior Park, rhe- 
torically rejoicing over his remoteness both from 
the Babel of London and that other mimic Babel 
of Bath, which he was enabled to survey, in the 
true Lucretian fashion, from Allen's specular 
portico. He must have enjoyed himself im- 
mensely, for Allen and his wife were models of 
considerate hospitality. On all matters horticul- 
tural Pope's word was law: and Pope had an 
entertainer who was also only too willing to par- 
ticipate in any philanthropic proposal. One of 
those for whom he secured Allen's assistance was 
the unsatisfactory Richard Savage, whom his long- 
suffering friends were endeavouring to establish 
in Wales ; and the Museum correspondence 
shows pretty clearly that half Pope's contribution 
of twenty pounds for this purpose was quietly 
furnished by Allen's munificence. To this un- 
obtrusive quality we owe Pope's notorious refer- 



12 At Prior Park 

ence to his host in the dialogue which afterwards 
became the first ' Epilogue to the Satires : ' 

Let low-born Allen, with an awkward shame, 
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. 

Allen's private views of this couplet are not on 
record. But, despite the admirable and antithetic 
dexterity of the second line, he must have been 
curiously constituted if he did not regard the 
epithet ' low-born ' as even more unhappy than 
that of ' our little bard ' which Johnson applied to 
Goldsmith in the first version of the Prologue to 
the ' Good Natur'd Man ; ' and though Pope, perhaps 
with some 'awkward shame' of his own, after- 
wards changed ' low-born ' to ' humble,' it is diffi- 
cult to believe that Allen can ever have been 
extravagantly gratified. But though he was not 
a highly educated man, he had instinctively ac- 
quired that virtue of reticence which, in such 
junctures, the true philosopher exhibits or simu- 
lates. He preserved a discreet silence, only re- 
doubling, if possible, his good offices to his tactless 
panegyrist. 

When Pope first went to Prior Park, his main 
regret, he told ' blameless Bethel,' had been the 
absence of his favourite, Martha Blount. In April 
1743, that lady lost her mother, and August at 



At Prior Park 13 

last found them together at Prior Park. But the 
joint visit was not a success. Some obscure dis- 
agreement took place almost immediately be- 
tween Mrs. Allen and Miss Blount which hur- 
ried Pope precipitately to Lord Bathurst's, and 
brought about a breach which, on Pope's side, 
was never wholly repaired. It is but just to say 
that Miss Blount was evidently in poor health ; 
and that, in addition to her recent bereavement, 
she had vexatious domestic difficulties. The 
origin of the rupture has never been definitely 
ascertained. Whether, from the beginning, Mrs. 
Allen was prejudiced against her feminine guest; 
whether Miss Blount was more than ordinarily 
untunable and exacting;^ or whether the sug- 
gested proximate cause was the refusal of Allen, 
who had just been Mayor of Bath, to lend the 
fair Patty his coach to carry her to Mass, will 
now probably never be known. What seems cer- 
tain is — that matters had become perilously 

I In any case, she must always ha%'e been a somewhat 
difficult guest. In a letter written from Stowe by Lady 
Suffolk in September 1735, she says that Lord Cobham 
had been put to much inconvenience owing to Miss Blount's 
reception at Stowe of friends of hers who, though neigh- 
bours, were not on his visiting list. ('Suffolk Corr.,' 1824, 
ii. 14.3.) 



14 At Prior Park 

strained. Pope, quitting Prior Park in a crisis of 
nervous irritation, had left his lady friend to follow 
as she could. However well he might wish his 
host, Mrs. Allen had suddenly become ' an im- 
pertinent minx '; and Warburton, who was im- 
plicated, * a sneaking parson.' It was Warburton, 
nevertheless, who, later, effected a reconciliation; 
and between Pope and the Aliens, at all events, 
the old cordiality appeared to be renewed. A few 
months afterwards Pope died ; but though by the 
will which he executed in December 1743, he 
left Allen part of his library and ;^I50, the man- 
ner of the money bequest still betrays a residue of 
rancour. The sum named, said the testator, was, 
to the best of his calculation, what he had re- 
ceived from Allen, partly for his own, and partly 
for charitable uses. Allen promptly handed over 
the money to the Mineral Water Hospital (as in- 
deed Pope had suggested) merely remarking la- 
conically that his friend was always a bad 
accountant; and that a cipher added to the 
figures would have more accurately represented 
the amount of the obligation.^ He also took into 

^ The Warburton truce took place in September 1743, 
and the will is dated 12th December following. It was 
conjectured, perhaps not unnaturally, that Miss Blount 
was at the bottom of the stroke at Allen; but the lady 



At Prior Park 1 5 

his service Pope's faithful gardener, John Searle, 
who had been adequately, but perhaps not liber- 
ally, provided for by his late master. Pope had 
left him £100 and a year's wages. Allen gave 
him a second hundred and a home. 

Of Warburton, already mentioned more than 
once, it is now time to speak. At the date of 
Pope's death he had been some two years an 
habitu^ of Prior Park, for admission to which he 
was indebted to Pope. In 1 741 he was a middle- 
aged Lincolnshire clergyman of no great emin- 
ence, although he had already published the first 
part of his famous contribution to the Deistic 
controversy, the ' Divine Legation of Moses.' 
But his championship of the ' Essay on Man ' 
against those who questioned its orthodoxy, had 
strongly endeared him to Pope ; and when, in the 
year last mentioned, his proposal to visit Pope at 
Twickenham reached the poet at Widcombe, 
Pope, then wrestling with the new ' Dunciad,' 
eagerly availed himself of Allen's polite proposal 
that Warburton should join them. ' The worthy 
man who is the master of it [Prior Park],' he 
wrote enthusiastically to Warburton, 'invites you 

denied this to Spence. She asserted on the contrary that 
she had vainly endeavoured to procure its withdrawal 
(' Anecdotes, etc.,' 1820, p. 357). 



1 6 At Prior Park 

in the strongest terms ; and is one who would 
treat you with love and veneration, rather than 
what the world calls civility and regard. He is 
sincere and plainer than almost any man now in 
this world, "antiquis moribus." ... It is just the 
best season. . . . You will want no servant here. 
Your room will be next to mine, and one man 
will serve us.' And then follows a passage on the 
amenities of Prior Park. ' Here is a library and a 
gallery ninety feet long to walk in, and a coach 
whenever you would take the air with me.' ^ 
(Allen himself, it may be noted, seldom used a 
coach unless he went beyond Bath.) The invita- 
tion thus given was the making of Warburton. 
He became a regular visitor to Prior Park, 
preached in its chapel,' ingratiated himself with 
its open-handed proprietor, contrived to obtain 
the hand of Miss Gertrude Tucker, Allen's 
favourite niece, and eventually, through his new 
friend's influence with Pitt, then Member for 

1 Pope's * Correspondence,' by Elwin and Courthope, 
iv. (1886), pp. 220, 221. 

* In November 174.5, he preached there a sermon 
'occasioned by the present unnatural rebellion,' which 
was printed. The large folio Bible used in Prior Park 
Chapel, it may be added, was that presented to Pope by 
Atterbury at their last interview in the Tower. (Hill's 
Johnson's 'Lives of the Poets,' iii. (1905), p. 141.) 



At Prior Park 17 

Bath, proceeded Dean of Bristol and Bishop of 
Gloucester. From this time forward, he virtually- 
resided at Prior Park; and when Allen died, 
Warburton and his wife came in for ^5,000 each, 
with reversion, on Mrs. Allen's death, of the 
Widcombe and Claverton estates. 

Warburton, for all his good fortune, can 
scarcely be described as a very attractive person- 
ality. He evidently could be, whenever he chose, 
exceedingly conciliatory and agreeable ; he could 
also be, and he frequently was, in controversy es- 
pecially, insufferably rough, overbearing and 
abusive. Prosperous externally, it is not impos- 
sible that his prosperity had its drawbacks. His 
married life, according to his biographers, was 
not idyllic; and even when he first made Allen's 
acquaintance, he must have had premonitions of 
that ill-health which finally, like Swift's, landed 
him in senile decay. At Prior Park he doubtless 
exhibited both aspects of his disposition. To 
Allen, whom he genuinely respected, and to 
whom he was bound by the strongest ties of 
gratitude, he was uniformly deferential and 
amiable. He regarded him, he says in one of his 
letters, as ' the greatest character in any age of 
the world. . . . Charity is but a small part of his 
virtues. I have studied his character even malici- 



1 8 At Prior Park 

ously, to find out where the weakness h'es. But 
I have studied in vain.' Even a large deduction 
for partiality would still leave this laudation. And 
he proved the sincerity of his devotion by defend- 
ing his benefactor strenuously when he was at- 
tacked. On the other hand, it is quite likely that 
to those who had less claim on him he was offen- 
sively patronizing and arrogant; and it is con- 
soling to think that he sometimes met his match. 
Quin, the actor, for example, who was by no 
means inclined to be suppressed by the 'saucy 
priest,' and who had, moreover, an inconvenient 
habit of blunt repartee before which Warburton's 
erudition was powerless, sometimes effectively 
routed him. Once, when they were discussing 
the execution of Charles I, which Quin upheld, 
Warburton asked loftily by what law he was 
condemned, and Quin retorted : ' By all the law 
which he had left in the land ! ' The Bishop 
could find no rejoinder. On another occasion 
when Warburton sought to accentuate Quin's 
calling by insidiously asking him to recite some- 
thing, Quin, yielding to pressure, selected a speech 
of Pierre in Otway's ' Venice Preserv'd,' contain- 
ing the passage : 

Honest men 

Are the soft, easy cushions on which kna'ves 

Repose and fatten — 



At Prior Park 19 

' mouthing out his hollow oes and aes ' with such 
unmistakable application to Allen and Warburton 
that the latter never again troubled him for a 
taste of his quality as an elocutionist.^ 

Quin and Warburton were antipathetic ; and 
it is known that some of the severer strokes in 
Churchill's merciless castigation of the Bishop in 
' The Duellist ' are based on the bons mots of the 
actor. But Warburton and Quin have broken 
our chronological sequence, as the next important 
of Allen's guests is undoubtedly Fielding, on 
whose relations with Pope and Allen the unpub- 
lished correspondence in the British Museum 
throws a fresh light — a light which justifies us in 
drawing out those relations rather more minutely 
than hitherto. Pope's earlier connection with 
Fielding is obscure. In one of Fielding's love- 
verses to Charlotte Cradock, he speaks of the poet 
as ' sweet Pope^ which proves nothing. Pope 
commented on a passage in 'Tom Thumb'; and 
Fielding referred obliquely to Pope in the ' Cov- 
ent Garden Tragedy.' When ' Pasquin ' appeared 
in April 1 736 Pope was one of the audience — 
according to the ' Grub Street Journal.' But the 
security is no better than Bardolph's; and the 
statement besides was promptly contradicted. 

* John Taylor, ' Records of my Life,' 1832, i, 86. 



20 At Prior Park 

Four years later the ' Champion ' was praising 
Pope's ' IHad,' which the writer of the paper (ap- 
parently to meet the allegations of the enemy 
that Pope was ignorant of Greek) declared, in 
emphatic typography, he had, ' with no Disad- 
vantage to the Translator, COMPARED with 
the Original.^ In February 1742, appeared 
' Joseph Andrews,' Book III, chap, vi, of which 
brings in both Pope and Allen: * Some gentle- 
men of our cloth ' [i.e. ' skips ' or footmen], says 
Joseph, * report charitable actions done by their 
lords and masters ; and I have heard Squire Pope, 
the great poet, at my lady's table, tell stories of a 
man that lived at a place called Ross, and another 

at the Bath, one Al Al I forget his 

name, but it is in the book of verses [Pope's 
" Satires "]. This gentleman hath built up a stately 
house too, which the squire likes very well ; but 
his charity is seen farther than his house, though 
it stands on a hill, ay, and brings him more hon- 
our too. It was his charity that put him in the 
book, where the squire says he puts all those who 
deserve it; and to be sure, as he lives among all 
the great people, if there were any such, he would 
know them.' 

This, to all appearance, is the first mention of 
Allen by Fielding; and it suggests that Fielding 



At Prior Park 21 

had heard of Allen's benevolence from Pope. In 
a subsequent letter from Pope to Allen there is, 
however, a specific reference to Fielding. 'Field- 
ing has sent the Books you subscribed for by the 
Hand I employed in conveying the ^^20 to him. 
In one chapter of the second vol. he has paid you 
a pretty Compliment upon your House.' At 
first sight this might seem to relate to the fore- 
going passage from 'Joseph Andrews,' which 
speaks both of Allen and his dwelling-place. But 
Pope's letter is dated 12th April, 1743, more 
than a year after the issue of Fielding's first 
novel, which besides was not subscribed for, but 
had been sold outright to Andrew Millar. The 
reference is therefore to the 'Miscellanies,' which 
were issued in April 1743; and the 'compli- 
ment ' occurs at p. 42 of the second volume of 
these, in chap, v of the Lucianic 'Journey from 
this World to the Next,' etc. Contrasting the 
many ' noble Palaces ' on the road to Greatness^ 
with the absence of them on the road to Goodness^ 
Fielding remarks that in the latter thoroughfare 
there was ' scarce a handsome Building, save one 
greatly resembling a certain House by the Bath.^ 
This is clearly the passage indicated by Pope, who 
himself receives a tribute further on in chap, viii, 
p. 64, where Homer is said ' to have asked much 



22 At Prior Park 

after Mr. Pope^ and said he was very desirous of 
seeing him : for that he had read his ' Iliad ' in his 
Translation with almost as much delight, as he 
believed he had given others in the Original.' The 
same chapter contains a reference to Warburton. 
To what extent these citations imply direct 
intercourse between Allen and Fielding is doubt- 
ful; and it is notable that neither Allen nor Pope 
appears in the list of subscribers to the ' Miscel- 
lanies.' It may be that the story of the ^20 — 
with an additional cipher! — is the source of Der- 
rick's statement that Allen sent Fielding a present 
of ^200 ' before he personally knew him,' for 
Derrick, who blunders badly in another part of 
this very passage, cannot be regarded as very 
trustworthy.^ But Fielding, whatever may have 
happened previous to the publication of the ' Mis- 
cellanies ' in 1743, was at Bath in 1744, since, 
as we now know, his wife died there in Novem- 
ber of that year J and in the interval which 
elapsed before the issue of ' Tom Jones ' in 
February 1749, a period of unusual stress, ill- 
health and privation, he must often have visited 
Bath. It is admitted that he lived for some time 
in the house at Twerton, already referred to;^ 

' 'Letters,' 1767, vol. ii, 04. 

2 This, now known as 'Fielding Lodge,' is authentic- 



At Prior Park 23 

and that while there he was writing ' Tom Jones' 
and dining ' almost daily at Prior Park.' So says 
the Rev. Richard Graves, the author, later, of 
that clever book, the ' Spiritual Quixote' ; and he 
is a credible witness. Other places in Bath asso- 
ciated with the progress of the book are Wid- 
combe House, the home of Allen's connections, 
the Bennets, with whom Fielding's acquaint- 
ance seems to go back to the time of his court- 
ship; and he must have often resided with his 
sister Sarah in her little cottage in Church Lane, 
now transformed into Widcombe Lodge, and 
tableted as a site he once haunted. During all 
this time it is clear that he was in frequent com- 
munication with Allen ; and that he was indebted 
to him for repeated kindnesses, which he, on his 
side, acknowledged with all the ungrudging gra- 
titude which was part of his large and impulsive 
nature.^ 

ated by an inscription placed on it by the good offices 
of Mr. R. G. Naish of Twerton. 

^ Fielding's original agreement with Andrew Millar 
for the coyyright of ' Tom Jones, and his autograph 
receipt for ;^6oo, were sold at Sotheby's in June 1911 for 
^1,015, the late Mr. Huth having paid Sotheran ^12 12s. 
for them in 1868. The author's entire gain for the six 
volumes was ;^70o, as Millar afterwards added ^^loo, in 
view of the success of the book. 



24 At Prior Park 

It is true that ' Tom Jones ' is inscribed not to 
Allen but to George Lyttelton; and that, by 
Fielding's dedicatory Preface, a third patron, the 
Duke of Bedford, is associated with the triple 
' picture of a truly benevolent Mind' after which, 
in drawing the Allworthy of the novel, he had 
been endeavouring. From Bedford and Lyttelton 
he had certainly received pecuniary help; indeed, 
he not only indicates Lyttelton as the sole be- 
getter of the book, but expressly declares that 
he (Fielding) ' partly owed his Existence to him' 
during much of the time occupied in its com- 
position. ' Tom Jones' is nevertheless full 
of references to Allen, and if the book does 
not precisely depict Prior Park, it is from its 
terrace that Allworthy surveys the sunrise ; and 
the leading traits of Allworthy are the leading 
traits of Allen. Kindliness, simplicity, modesty, 
unpretentious generosity — these are all the merits 
of Allworthy, and they are also the merits of 
Allen. Sometimes the description is literally 
transferable. The following, for instance, is quite 
unsuited to Bedford and Lyttelton, while it is ex- 
actly true of Allen : ' Though he had missed the 
advantage of a learned education, yet being blessed 
with vastnatural abilities, he had sowell profited by 
a vigorous, though late application to letters, and 



At Prior Park 25 

by much conversation with men of eminence in 
this way, that he was himself a very competent 
judge in most kinds of Hterature.' ^ Moreover, in 
Book VIII, chap, i, Fielding, though without 
naming Allen, draws his character at full. It is 
too lengthy to quote ; and we have only room for 
a passage borrowed from an earlier page, which 
throws a light on the unconventional hospitalities 
of Prior Park. After referring to those hosts to 
whom their literary guests are little more than 
dependents, or servants out of livery, the author 
goes on: 'On the contrary, every person in this 
house was perfect master of his own time; and 
as he might at his pleasure satisfy all his appetites 
within the restrictions only of law, virtue, and 
religion; so he might, if his health required, or 
his inclination prompted him to temperance, or 
even to abstinence, absent himself from any 
meals, or retire from them whenever he was so 
disposed, without even a solicitation to the con- 
trary; for indeed, such solicitations from superiors 
always savour very strongly of commands. But 
here all were free from such impertinence, not 
only those, whose company is in all other places 
esteemed a favour from their equality of fortune, 
but even those whose indigent circumstances 
^ 'Tom Jones,' Book I, chap. x. 



26 At Prior Park 

make such an eleemosynary abode convenient to 
them, and who are therefore less welcome to a 
great man's table because they are most in need 
ofit.'^ 

Fielding when at Bath continued to frequent 
Prior Park,*^ and he had not exhausted his grati- 
tude to ' Mr. AUworthy,' to whom, two years 
later, he inscribed ' Amelia.' We have always re- 
garded this tribute as a model of the dignified 
style in dedication. Here, in their first fashion, 
are the portions which relate to Allen : ' The 
best Man is the properest Patron of such an at- 
tempt. This, I believe, will be readily granted ; 
nor will the public Voice, I think, be more 

* * Tom Jones,' Book I, chap. x. 

^ There is token of this in the censorious utterance of 
Hurd to Balguy in 1 751, in which he speaks of having 
dined there on the previous day [i8th March] with Field- 
ing, whom he characterizes as 'a poor emaciated, worn- 
out rake, whose gout and infirmities have got the better 
even of his buffoonery.' Warburton's servile biographer, 
then a young man, had apparently not yet acquired the 
charity which later made him the admiration of Bathonians. 
In March 1751, Fielding had, not long before, been dan- 
gerously ill; and if he was a martyr to gout, so was Pitt. 
Moreover, at this date he was an active and energetic 
magistrate, whose philanthropic pamphlets were by no 
means 'buffoonery,' and whose latest novel was 'Tom 
Jones.' 



At Prior Park 27 

divided, to whom they shall give that Appella- 
tion. Should a Letter indeed be thus inscribed, 
Detur Optimo, there are few Persons who 
would think it wanted any other Direction.' 

After saying that he will not ' assume the ful- 
some Stile of a common Dedicator,' he goes on : 
* I have not their usual Design in this Epistle 
nor will I borrow their Language. Long, very 
long may it be before a most dreadful Circum- 
stance shall make it possible for any Pen to draw 
a just and true Character of yourself, without in- 
curring a Suspicion of Flattery in the Bosoms of 
the Malignant. This Task, therefore, I shall 
defer till that Day (if I should be so unfortunate 
as ever to see it) when every good Man shall pay 
a Tear for the Satisfaction of his Curiosity ; a day 
which at present, I believe, there is but one good 
Man in the World who can think of with Un- 
concern.' 

Notwithstanding that the owner of Prior Park 
was an older man than Fielding, the 'just and 
true Character' was never composed, for Ralph 
Allen survived the novelist some ten years. But 
he extended his benevolent protection to Field- 
ing's family, one of whom was named Allen after 
him; and although he resigned the execution 
and administration of Fielding's will, he is said 



28 At Prior Park 

to have made a ' very liberal annual donation ' 
tow^ards the education of his children — a state- 
ment supported by the fact that he left three of 
them, as well as their aunt, Sarah, ^^loo each. 

Fielding had been dead three years, and Pope 
thirteen, before vv^e hear of the next great visitor 
to Prior Park, William Pitt, later Earl of Chatham. 
Allen had no doubt made Pitt's acquaintance be- 
fore 1757, w^hen he became Member for Bath; 
and their friendship continued until Allen's death. 
Whether, as there is some ground for supposing, 
Allen actually paid Pitt's election expenses or 
whether he did not, there can be little doubt that 
Allen's local influence, and power with the civic 
authorities, materially contributed to Pitt's suc- 
cess ; and that the relations of the two men were 
honourable to both. Unluckily, towards the close 
of Allen's life, those relations were troubled by a 
passing disagreement between the Great Com- 
moner and his constituents. Pitt regarded the 
Peace of Paris, which closed the Seven Years' 
War, as * inadequate,' and he had said so in 
Parliament. When he was subsequently invited 
to present to the King an address from the Mayor 
and Corporation of Bath in which it was qualified 
as 'adequate,' he naturally declined to do so; and 
as Allen honestly admitted his responsibility for 



At Prior Park 29 

the peccant epithet, the situation became embar- 
rassing. Between Pitt and Allen, however, matters 
were happily smoothed over without loss of self- 
respect on either side/ At Allen's death he left 
Pitt ;^i,ooo as 'a last instance of his friendship 
and grateful regard for the best of friends, as well 
as the most upright and ablest of Ministers that 
has adorned our Country.' Pitt, on his side, wrote 
to Allen's widow of her dead husband in terms 
of the warmest affection and esteem. But of his 
actual visits to Allen's house no record remains. 
There was no pious poet to sing of Pitt at Prior 
Park as Thomson sang of Pitt at Stowe. 

Pope, Fielding, Pitt — these are the most sub- 
stantial shadows of the Prior Park guests; of the 
others we get little more than passing glimpses. 
Of Warburton, Graves, Quin, Hurd, and even 
Sarah Fielding, the most has been said that is 
known. There seems to be an impression that 
Sterne was one of the visitors. But the picture 
of him painted by Gainsborough, another of 
Allen's friends, and now in the Peel Park Museum 
at Salford, was not executed until after Allen's 
death. Of Richardson, who is also said to have 
sat to Gainsborough, and who married the sister 

1 Peach, 'Life and Times of Ralph Allen/ 1895, 
pp. 176-9. 



30 At Prior Park 

of James Leake, the bookseller whose back-parlour 
on the Walks by LilHput Alley was a rallying- 
place of the Bath literati, there is a solitary and 
very characteristic anecdote. It is here that he is 
recorded to have uttered the memorable words: 
' Twenty years ago I was the most obscure man 
in Great Britain, and now I am admitted to the 
company of the first characters in the Kingdom.' 
He was going to dine at Prior Park ! ^ Thomas 
Ed wards,of the 'Canons of Criticism,' Richardson's 
friend and admirer, and a Greek scholar bold 
enough to cross swords with Warburton, was 
another of the group ; so also was that most 
dapper of Dukes, the French envoy, Nivernais, 
wearing no doubt on his extremely diminutive 
person the extremely diminutive hat which he 
had brought into fashion, and which Anstey in 
the ' New Bath Guide ' celebrated as the mark of a 
*Beau Gar^on.' Other names might be added. 
But the pleasantest figures to pause upon are those 
of the host and hostess, as drawn by Derrick, one 
of Nash's successors as Master of the Ceremonies. 
Allen he portrays as *a very grave, well-looking 
old man, plain in his dress, resembling that of a 
Quaker, and courteous in his behaviour. . . . His 
wife is low [i.e.j of stature], with grey hair, of a 
1 Graves.. 'The Triflers,' 1806, p. 68. 



At Prior Park 31 

very pleasing address, that prejudices you much 
in her favour.' * One w^ants no fuller picture of 
that homely, kindly pair ; but those who desire 
further to visualize ' Mr. Allw^orthy ' may consult 
William Hoare's picture in that Hospital at Bath 
to which Allen was so munificent a patron. 

• 'Letters,' 1767, ii, 94. 



THE PORTRAITS OF 
CARMONTELLE 

AT Strawberry-Hill, in the sunny Blue 
Breakfast Room overlooking the Thames 
with its solemn, slow-moving barges, hung many 
mementoes of Horace Walpole's friends and pre- 
dilections. There were prints of Lady Mary 
Coke, Lady Hervey, and Mason the poet; there 
was a sketch of Fontenelle ; there was a portrait 
of Voltaire cut out in card by Hubert of Geneva. 
There was a painting by Raguenet of the Hotel 
de Carnavalet ' in la rue Coulture St. Catherine, 
at Paris,' now an Historical Museum, but once 
the residence of Mme. de S^vigne; and there was 
an engraving minutely reproducing Mme. du 
Deffand's room and her favourite cats, a taste in 
which she rivalled her contemporary, Mme. 
Helv^tius. But the picture that here most im- 
mediately concerns us was a washed drawing in 
which a young, aristocratic-looking woman, in 
the ' robe rayde' of the period, was shown present- 
ing a doll to an old lady in a frilled hood-cap, 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 33 

who, seated in a high chair, and with closed eyes, 
was raising her hands to receive it. 

The figures stood for two of Walpole's French 
friends, the Duchesse de Choiseul, the young and 
beautiful wife of Louis the Fifteenth's Prime 
Minister, and Mme. du DefFand, then more than 
seventy years old, Mme. du DefFand had long 
been blind ; but was still possessed of extraordinary 
vivacity and feverish interest in life. Her own 
grandmother had been a Duchesse de Choiseul; 
and in allusion to this, she was accustomed to 
call the existing Duchess ' Grand'maman,' while 
that lady on her side addressed her septuagenarian 
friend as her 'petite-fille.' Hence, apparently, what 
Walpole styles the 'joli badinage de la poupde.' 
Not long after his second visit to Paris, the two 
ladies had sent him their combined portraits by the 
hands of the French Ambassador, the Marquis 
du Chatelet. That of the elder lady was held to 
be excellent. Nothing could be so ' exactement 
vrai au pied de la lettre.' ' Vous etes ici en per- 
sonne, je Vous parle, et il n'y manque que votre 
impatience a repondre ' — says Horace in his 
English-French. Her ' Tonneau ' (this was her 
so-called ' Tub ' or great chair), her furniture, her 
environment, were all faithfully given. 'Jamais 
une idee ne s'est si bien rendue.' On the other 



34 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

hand, the portrait of Mme, de Choiseul, whom 
Walpole professed to admire extravagantly, was 
reckoned a failure. That ' queen of an allegory,' 
as he called her, had lost her beauty and distinc- 
tion; and probably a good deal which, in those 
days, when expression played so large a part in 
personal charm, could not possibly be transferred 
to paper or canvas. Even if the artist had suc- 
ceeded, as he had with Mme. du Deffand — who, 
by the way, was practically ' still life ' — some- 
thing, as Walpole admits, must always have been 
to seek. ' L'eloquence, I'elegance, la saine raison, 
la bonte, I'humilite, et I'afFabilite, sont-elles du 
ressort de la peinture? ' he asks. In all this, there 
is no doubt a good deal of the hyperbole of com- 
pUment. But others, as well as Walpole, appear to 
have agreed that the popular artist, M. de Carmon- 
telle, had not been as fortunate in his likeness of 
Mme. de Choiseul as in his likeness of Mme. du 
DefFand/ And who was M. de Carmontelle \ 
That is the question we shall attempt to answer. 

^ We have failed to discover what has become of this 
drawing. At the Strawberry-Hill sale it was sold for 
seven guineas to Mr. W. M. Smith (Strawberry-Hill Cat., 
1842, p. 121). An engraving of it by W. Greatbach 
forms the frontispiece to vol. vii. of Walpole's 'Letters' 
by Cunningham, 1857-59. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 3 5 

There seems, at the outset, to be some doubt as 
to the spelling of his name. Most of the diction- 
aries call him Carmontelle ; he is Carmontelle to 
Grimm, whose portrait he drew ; and he is Car- 
montelle on some of the engravings after his de- 
signs. He is also (and this is, perhaps, most to 
the point) Carmontelfe in the official record of his 
death. But Walpole, Miss Mary Berry, Mme. 
du DefFand, and Mme. de Genlis, the last of 
whom says she had known him uninterruptedly 
for fifteen years at Paris or at the Orleans court 
of Villers-Cotterets, all call him 'Carmontel.' In 
either case, the name was assumed. The late 
M. Auguste Jal, of whom one may truly say, as 
Johnson said of Cave, that he was * nullis fessus 
laboribus,' discovered conclusively that the patro- 
nymic of Carmontelle was Louis Carrogis; and 
that Louis Carrogis was the son of Philippe Car- 
rogis, shoemaker, and of Marie-Jeanne Eybelly, 
his wife, a shoemaker's daughter, both resident in 
Paris at their shop in the rue du Coeur- Volant, 
at the corner of the rue des Quatre-Vents. 
Here, on the 15th of August 17 17, Carmontelle 
was born, having for godfather a neighbouring 
grocer. To this modest origin and condition it 
is doubtless due that no particulars of the first 
forty years of his career are forthcoming, with 



36 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

exception of the fact that, in 1744, he stood 
sponsor for one of his brother's sons, being then 
described as Louis Carrogis, 'engineer' — a voca- 
tion presupposing, not only a specific technical 
training, but in addition some familiarity with 
geometry and mechanical drawing. He must at 
the same time have possessed, or afterwards ac- 
quired, the arts of etching and engraving, since 
there are said to be etchings signed L. Carro- 
gis. Having for some time acted as tutor to the 
children of the Marquis d'Armenti^res, on the 
outbreak of the Seven Years' War he was carried 
by the commander of the Orleans regiment of 
dragoons, M. de Pons-Saint-Maurice, who was 
also Governor to the Due de Chartres, into 
Westphalia, in the capacity of aide-de-camp. 
Here his chief duties were to draw military plans, 
carve cold turkey dexterously for his general 
officer, and make sketches — or, as they were then 
loosely styled, 'caricatures' — for the Due de Chev- 
reuse, of the respective officers of the Chevreuse, 
Bauffremont, Orleans, and Caraman troops of 
horse. These performances had already become 
numerous and popular, when, with the conclusion 
of the war, he was definitely attached to the 
household of the Due d'Orl6ans, Louis-Philippe 
the First, familiarly known as the 'gros Due,' under 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 37 

the title of Reader to his son, Louis-Philippe 
Joseph, Due de Chartres, afterwards 'Egalit6,' and 
then about sixteen. * Quoique honorable,' says 
Mme. de Genlis, this was a post * en quelque 
sorte subalterne,' and did not permit its holder 
even in the undress atmosphere of the Duke's 
country seats of St. Cloud or Villers-Cotterets, 
to take his meals with the family, although he 
seems later to have shared with the famous 
Tronchin, his Grace's physician-in-chief, the 
special privilege of eating ices in the evening 
with the rest of the court. But Carmontelle, for 
by this time he must long since have adopted his 
pseudonym, coupled with the much-suspected 'de' 
employed by Voltaire, was no ordinary man. He 
had, as we shall see, an imposing presence ; his 
manners, without subserviency, were good; and, 
besides being exceptionally well-informed, he 
possessed many agreeable literary and social accom- 
plishments, which must speedily have rendered 
him invaluable to a shifting and restless com- 
munity of titled idlers, whose ceaseless inquiry, 
like that of Mme. de Genlis' M. Dam^zague, was 
' Que f6rons-nous demain matin ? ' Foremost 
among these popular talents were the dramatic 
sketches, or 'Proverbes,' which later made him the 
Scribe of his epoch. It is, however, with his art- 



38 The Portraits of Carmontelk 

istic gifts that we are here exclusively concerned. 
* II peignoir parfaitement [the epithet is of course 
exaggerated] a la gouache le paysage et la figure,' 
says his panegyrist; and he had the happy knack 
of taking full-length portraits, after the fashion 
introduced by Cochin, in profile, which made 
him much in requisition by the high-born or 
distinguished personages with whom he came in 
contact. Mme. de Genlis, whom he drew play- 
ing on the inevitable harp, says that he repre- 
sented her as very ugly, and needlessly em- 
phasized the height of her forehead. But there 
must assuredly have been some compensating 
qualities in the picture, for she shows no sign in 
her writing of the ' injuria spretae formae.' An- 
other of Carmontelle's devices for amusing his 
contemporaries must have anticipated the modern 
moving-picture; and in some sort resembled 
those ' Ombres Chinoises' which Monsieur S6ra- 
phin was later to make so attractive a diversion of 
the reconstructed Palais Royal. Mme. de Genlis 
vaguely defines this as ' a sort of magic lantern.' 
Luckily, other reporters are more explicit. It 
consisted of a sequence of transparencies, or con- 
tinuous designs on thin paper, the unrolling of 
which behind a glass revealed to the spectators 
on the other side an unending procession of figures 



The Portraits of Carniontelle 39 

of all sorts, occupied in all kinds of ways, and 
set in suitable landscapes or localities. Some of 
these transparencies are said to have been a 
hundred, or even a hundred and sixty feet long; 
and they afford an extraordinary testimony to 
the untiring industry and fertility of their con- 
triver/ It is no wonder that such a man be- 
came in brief space ' Ordonnateur des fetes en 
general ' to the Duke of Orleans. For this office, 
coupled with his readership, he received the 
modest annual stipend of 1,800 livres, which, 
taking the livre to represent \Qd. would mean 
{j]S- But he was apparently only on duty dur- 
ing ' la belie saison,' and it is but reasonable to 
assume that he was sometimes paid for his portraits. 
For more than twenty years Carmontelle con- 
tinued his unwearied and unambitious activities. 
Then, in 1785, the 'gros Due' died, and was suc- 
ceeded by Philippe ' Egalit6.' By this date Car- 
montelle was nearing seventy. He seems, tempo- 

^ Angelo claims that his father did something of the 
same kind on the model of a pictorial drama entitled the 
* Tableau mouvant,' which he had seen at Venice. ' He was 
so delighted with its effect, the scenes being painted as 
transparencies, and the figures being all black profiles, 
that he constructed a stage on the same plan, and it was 
greatly admired by Gainsborough, Wilson and other land- 
scape painters.' ('Reminiscences,' 1830, i, 10.) 



40 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

rarily at all events, to have passed to the service of 
the new Duke. But in 1785 the Revolution w^as 
in the near future; and henceforth w^e knov^^ 
little of his proceedings. He must, however, have 
contrived to preserve a 'juste milieu,' for, while 
most of his sitters emigrated or were guillotined, 
the storm rolled harmlessly over his head, leaving 
him impoverished but unscathed. He survived 
until December 1806, dying quietly at No. 22, 
Rue Vivienne, aged eighty-nine. In the register 
of the arrondissement, consulted by M. Jal, he is 
described as Louis Carrogis Carmontelle, ' c^liba- 
taire' and 'rentier.' Of what his 'rentes' could 
have consisted, it is hard to conceive, if, as stated by 
some authorities, it be true that his closing years 
were spent in a state bordering on indigence; and 
that he was even obliged to pledge his MSS. at 
the Mont de Pi6t6 in order to meet a pressing 
necessity — one of those exceptional cases, adds 
the narrator sardonically, in which it has been 
found possible to raise money upon wit. It is 
further related that he often figured at the 
periodical free dinners which Mme. de Frenilly 
gave to her ' old and ruined friends ' — dinners at 
which each guest ' ate to satisfy himself for the 
next few days.' ^ This was c. 1798. On the other 
^ * Recollections of the Baron de Frenilly,' 1909, Heine- 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 41 

hand, Mme. de Genlis, who saw Carmontelle 
frequently after 1802 at the apartments which 
Bonaparte had assigned to her in the Arsenal, 
declares that ' il jouissoit d'une honndte aisance.' 
' Son caractere etoit si doux, ses moeurs si pures, 
ses talens si aimables, qu'il n'excita jamais la 
haine et I'envie. ... II fut toujours lou6, aime, 
considere; et, dans un age tr^s avanc6, il termina 
paisiblement ses jours au sein de sa patrie,' 

He had been in the habit of preserving the 
originals of his sketches, and of giving only copies 
to those of his sitters who wanted them. Conse- 
quently, at his death he possessed a large number 
of drawings, which were sold by auction in April 
1807, a lengthy catalogue being printed at the 
Imprimerie des Sciences et des Arts. It described 
the collection as including ' seven hundred and 
fifty portraits of Princes and Lords, Princesses 
and titled Ladies, Ministers, Soldiers, Magis- 
trates, Ecclesiastics, Savants, and illustrious Per- 
sonages under the reign of Louis XV, painted in 
gouache from the life, and about eight or nine 
inches high.' M. Joly, the Keeper of the Prints 
at the Biblioth^que Imp^riale, was desirous that 
this unique gallery should be acquired by the 

mann, p. 155. The hostess called these Saturday feasts 
' jour d'ogres,' which her cook turned into ' jour de dogues.' 



42 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

Government ; but he unfortunately died before 
the purchase could be effected. Thereupon, * a 
friend of Carmontelle, the Chevalier Richard de 
L6dans, a retired military man, vv^ell knovi^n to 
the Orleans family, determining that they ought 
not to be dispersed, borrowed the money to buy 
them, hoping he might be able to transfer them 
as a whole to one of Carmontelle's sitters, 
Talleyrand, by that time Bonaparte's Minister 
for Foreign Affairs. In this he was disappointed. 
He therefore sold a few of them separately,* thus 
reducing their number to five hundred and thirty 
sketches, comprising six hundred and thirty-five 
portraits. These he catalogued and classified, 
adding some prefatory account of Carmontelle, 
still preserved at the Mus6e Cond6. As he him- 
self had been familiar with many of the persons 
depicted, he was generally able to identify them. 
In i8i6 Ledans died, and the collection passed 
into the hands of a certain Pierre de La M6san- 
gere, a ci-devant priest and professor of belles- 
lettres at La Fleche, whom the Revolution had 

^ Possibly some of these reached the British Museum, 
which possesses four : the Due de Chevreuse (hereafter 
mentioned), Mme. de Vermenoux, the Marquise de la 
Croix (a charming recumbent figure), and the ' Coureur 
(messenger) of St. -Cloud. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 43 

transformed into the editor of the * Journal des 
Dames at des Modes.' His knowledge of costume 
enabled him to add details to the labours of his 
predecessor, and to rectify minor mistakes; and 
he carefully mounted the drawings in their exist- 
ing form. Then, in February 1831, La Mesan- 
gere also died, and on the i8th July his property, 
including the Carmontelle portraits, was dispersed 
by auction. At the Mesangere sale they were 
bought by the Gordon Duff family, and came to 
Banff, Here they remained until 1877, when 
their then-owner. Major Lachlan Gordon Duff 
of Drummuir, sold the majority of them ^ to 
Messrs. Colnaghi, from whom they eventually 
passed to Henri d'Orldans, Due d'Aumale, King 
Louis-Philippe's fourth son, and the heir to the 
last of the Cond^s. The Duke had already con- 
trived to secure some of Carmontelle's produc- 
tions,^ and he afterwards bought a few more. 

• Major Gordon DufF retained a certain number, which 
are now in possession of his son, Mr. Thomas Gordon 
Duff. These include, among others, drawings of Hume, 
Talleyrand, the Duke of York, Bougainville the Elder, 
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes, the Princesse de Salm and her son, 
the Duchesse de Chaulnes, and a very attractive ' laitiere ' 
of Villers-Cotterets. 

^ Some of these came from the sale of the concierge of 
the old Park or Garden of Monceau, which, in 1778, was 



44 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

This brought the total up to four hundred and 
eighty-four drawings and five hundred and sixty- 
one portraits, which were re-arranged by a Brus- 
sels binder named Claessens in ten large red 
morocco volumes. These in 1897 the Duke be- 
queathed with the rest of his art treasures to the 
Institute of France. They are now in the Or- 
leans salon of the Musee Cond6, constituting a 
' vast collection in which the second half of the 
eighteenth century lives again, with all its ele- 
gances and some also of its trivialities.' 

The last words are quoted from the introduction 

laid out for the Due de Chartres by Carmontelle, who, 
though he declined to regard it as an English garden, 
decorated it freely with the temples, obelisks, Chinese 
bridges, and artificial ruins popular at Kew and Stowc. 
One of these structures, the Naumachia, an oval piece of 
water, partly encircled by a Corinthian colonnade, the 
fluted pillars of which came from the Valois tomb at 
St. Denis, still exists (Baedeker's 'Paris,' 1904, p. 217). 
The place was one of Carmontelle's favourite resorts, and 
he did numerous views for a volume describing it in 1779. 
In the delightful ' Nouvelles Promenades dans Paris ' of 
M. Georges Cain, the curator of the Musee Carnavalet 
(p. 320), there is a plan showing that the original Pare 
Monceau, from which ' Egalite ' and Lafayette heard the 
cannon announcing the fall of the Bastille, was as large 
again as the pretty well-kept pleasure-ground that now 
bears the name. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 45 

to a sumptuous quarto which, under the title of 
* Chantilly: Les Portraits de Carmontelle,' Mons. 
F. A. Gruyer, the late accomplished curator of 
the Musee Conde, devoted to this particular 
branch of its riches; and to which we are indebted 
for many of the foregoing facts, since, although 
we have consulted numerous authorities (includ- 
ing of course our own favourite M. Jal), we have 
found it difficult to add much but those minor 
explanations always required in treating a French 
theme for English readers. Like the savant he was, 
M. Gruyer did his work ' savamment.' Besides 
all needful preliminaries, he gives ample informa- 
tion respecting the persons represented by Car- 
montelle, a task entailing no small labour: and 
what is more, he adds a number of photographic 
reproductions, which, to those who cannot make 
the pilgrimage to Chantilly, are of considerable 
value. That Carmontelle was an amateur must 
be admitted. But he certainly was not an amateur 
in the sense of the adage 'Qui dit amateur, dit 
ignorant.' On the contrary, he was abundantly 
instructed. His backgrounds and accessaries are 
always informing and appropriate; and his details 
of costume minutely studied. As to his likenesses, 
although he may not have satisfied the enthusiasm 
of Walpole or the vanity of Mme. de Genlis, there 



46 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

is no lack of testimony that he sufficiently met 
the requirements of ready recognition. As to this 
we may trust the ever-critical Grimm. ' He has 
the special gift of seizing the air, the carriage, the 
spirit of the figure rather than the resemblance of 
the features.' . . , Every day I find myself recog- 
nizing in society persons vi^hom I have never seen 
except in his collections.' ' These, which he aug- 
ments daily, also give an idea of the different 
states of life, as men and women of all degrees 
and ages enter into them indiscriminately, from 
Monsieur the Dauphin to the fioor-polisher of 
St.-Cloud.' The quotation suggests a certain 
affinity with the work of the German Daniel 
Chodowiecki, and particularly with the sequence 
of drawings in theBerlin Academy which illustrate 
that artist's 'Journey to Danzig' in 1773, so 
excellently facsimiled by Messrs. Amsler and 

^ In confirmation of this M. Gruyer quotes from the 
Carmontelle sale catalogue of 1807 the description of a 
picture which represents six persons in the red St.-Cloud 
livery looking at a garden, with their backs to the spectator, 
each of whom it was easy to identify from his posture and 
general appearance. The very existence of such a drawing 
shows what was regarded as one of Carmontelle's special 
ingenuities. One remembers the wonderful hats in Hogarth's 
"Election Entertainment," all of which suggest different 
owners. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 47 

Ruthardt. Chodowiecki, with a wider inventive 
range, has all the sedulous fidelity to dress and 
accessary which distinguish his French contem- 
porary. Indeed, at one point there is an actual 
though accidental connection between their 
labours. About 1765 Carmontelle made a design 
arising out of the well-known Calas case. iVIarc- 
Antoine Calas, a moody young fellow, had com- 
mitted suicide; and the Roman Catholic fanatics 
of Toulouse persuaded themselves that, to prevent 
his turning Roman, he had been murdered by his 
Protestant father. The hapless old man was conse- 
quently broken on the wheel; but the rest of the 
family were exonerated; and Carmontelle's com- 
position shows them receiving in prison the an- 
nouncement of their acquittal. It is singularly 
effective, Mme. Calas and her two daughters being 
most sympathetically rendered, as well as their 
staunch fellow sufferer, the Roman Catholic ser- 
vant. Of this drawing an excellent engraving by 
de La Fosse, published for the benefit of the 
sufferers, found its way to Berlin, and Chodowiecki 
copied it in oil. He then set about a pendant, 
depicting the condemned man's farewell to his 
family. This he himself engraved; and, as the 
print called the ' Adieux de Calas,' or ' Der grosse 
Calas ' (to distinguish it from a smaller copy), it 



48 The Portraits of Caj'montelle 

became one of the most famous of his produc- 
tions. 

M. Gruyer skilfully distributed the Carmontelle 
Gallery into groups of Princes and Princesses, 
Courtiers and Court Officials, Soldiers and Sailors, 
Great Ladies, Statesmen, Ecclesiastics, Authors, 
Musicians, and so forth. From so potent and rev- 
erend an assembly, one can but select for recogni- 
tion, as one does in real life, a few of those whom 
one knows best or likes most. In such circum- 
stances, we naturally look first for the person who, 
if not precisely the host, is certainly the ' ordonna- 
teur de la fete ' : to wit — Carmontelle himself. 
He is not difficult to find, as he naturally figures 
in the group attached to the Orleans household. 
Seated on a terrace, with garden trees in the back- 
ground, he is depicted in the act of taking one of 
the portraits to which, according to tradition, 
he was seldom able to devote more than a couple 
of hours. He is magnificently attired in a suit of 
garnet velvet, with green spots, and wears a bag 
of the same material. His hair is elaborately 
dressed in the fashion of 1762 or thereabouts, 
which would make him between forty and fifty. 
Before him, on an elegant Louis-Quinze table, 
lies the large book or album which Mme. de 
Genlis describes him as bringing into the room 




CARMONTELLE: BY HIMSELF 



(from gruyer's "chantilly: les portraits de carmontelle," 

BY permission OF MM. PLON-NOURRIT ET CIE.) 



The Portraits of Cannontelle 49 

at Villers-Cotterets after dinner in order to sketch 
the most recent arrivals. His artistic stock-in- 
trade is of the simplest. Red chalk for the flesh, 
black chalk for the dress j a little water or body- 
colour for the final tints — this is all he wants. His 
appearance is that of a singularly methodical and 
self-possessed person, with comely features, and the 
air of a careful but calm investigator, of whom one 
may well believe, in Mme. de Genlis' words, that 
Ml joignait beaucoup de bonhomie a I'esprit le plus 
observateur, deux choses bien rarement reunies.' ^ 
In royalties Carmontelle's gallery is not rich. 
Louis the Well-Beloved did not apparently figure 
among the sitters, nor need his absence be re- 
gretted. On the other hand, there is an excellent 
portrait of the unfortunate Dauphin, in queue and 
cadogan, with his hands buried in a muff. He is 
placed, like Carmontelle himself, on a terrace, 
with ominous cypresses in the background, 
although, in 1760, when this sketch was made, 
he had still five years before him; and was 

^ In 1762 he would be in his prime. Later reports 
describe him in advanced years somewhat differently. 'He 
was a thin man, with a long and severe face,' says Frenilly, 
* a sardonic laugh, an imperious and choleric disposition ; 
but hidden under this rugged exterior were a very good 
heartandasingularly lofty soul.' ('Recollections,' 1909, p. 5.) 
E 



50 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

apparently far from being the living ghost whom, 
not long before his death, Horace Walpole saw 
at Versailles. Carmontelle also drew the Dauphin's 
devoted German wife, mother of the sainted 
Mme. Elizabeth, and of three kings (Louis X\^I, 
Charles X, and Louis XVIII); but her picture 
is not among the treasures of the Musde Conde. 
Other portraits in this group are Carmontelle's 
patron, the 'gros Due,' that benevolent, albeit 
somewhat dull and prematurely portly personage, 
who afterwards married Mme. de Montesson, the 
aunt of whom Mme. de Genlis gives a so frankly 
feline account in her ' Memoirs ' (' Elles se detest- 
aient cordialement,' says Mme. d'Oberkirch); 
the Due de Chartres, the ' gros Due's ' son, ' dans 
sa belle jeunesse,' which must have been the only 
thing beautiful that could ever be attributed to 
Philippe 'Egalite'; the Prince de Conde, not yet 
the leader of the Emigres of 1789, but the boy- 
hero of Johannisberg and the Seven Years' War, 
and 'Egalite's' sister, Therese-Bathilde d'Orleans, 
or ' Mademoiselle,' a very arch and winsome little 
lady, in all the bravery of panniers, powder, and 
begarlanded 'grand habit.' ^ But the most memor- 

^ 'Mademoiselle' married the Due de Bourbon. Her 
only son was the ill-fated Ducd'Enghien, shot at Vincennes 
in 1804. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 5 1 

able pair in this category are ' Egalit^'s ' sister-in- 
law, the hapless Princesse de Lamballe (of whom 
M. Gruyer does not reproduce the portrait), and 
her father-in-law, the good Due de Penthievre, 
about whose practical rather than pastoral benevo- 
lence his secretary Florian wrote : 

Bourbon n'invite pas les folatres bergeres 

A s'assembler sous les ormeauxj 
II ne se mele pas a leurs danses legeres, 

Mais il leur donne des troupeaux. 

It was the Duke's emissaries who tried to save 
the Princess at the terrible September massacres, 
but the butchers fell upon them with cries of 
' Death to the disguised lacqueys of the Due de 
Penthievre,' and they themselves barely escaped. 

From the dispersed and miscellaneous crowd 
of 'Personnages attached to the House of Orleans.' 
it is difficult to make selection. But it may be 
noted that several of them were English or Irish. 
Of Colonel Barre (perhaps the Isaac Barre who 
served under Wolfe against Rochfort), little is 
said beyond the fact that, besides being a gambler, 
he was a good amateur actor. General Clarke is 
another; but of the special functions of these two 
nothing is stated. There are also Lord Farnham, 
and the ' gros Due's' preceptor, M. the Abbe 



52 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

O'Mdlan (?) — a 'tr^s digne eccl^siastique,' and a 
*tr^s bon gentilhomme, comme tous les Irlandais 
du monde,'says L6dans,withaburst of enthusiasm. 
Then there are portraits of Count d'Adhdmar, 
sometime ambassador to England; of another 
reader to the Duke d'Orleans, the vaudevillist, 
C0II6, at this date a septuagenarian ; of Mme. 
du DefFand's friend Pont-de-Veylej of the 
Academician, La Curne de Sainte-Palaye, the 
author of the ' Dictionnaire des Antiquites 
Fran^aises.' But the most notable, and perhaps 
the most noteworthy historical figure is the famous 
Bailli de SufFren, one of the noblest names in 
French naval history, and the doughty opponent 
of Sir Edward Hughes in that long and changing 
struggle in East Indian waters which ended with 
the Peace of Versailles. The Bailli must have 
been among the last of Carmontelle's Orleans 
sitters, if his portrait be rightly dated 1785, since 
that was also the year of the 'gros Due's ' death. 
The number of portraits in this class is already 
too large to deal with ; but it may be added that 
it is exceedingly comprehensive in its range, for 
it includes likenesses of the negroes, Narcisse and 
Auguste, of the latter of whom M. Gruyer says 
happily that ' il s'abandonne avec d61ices au plaisir 
de ne rien faire'; of Liennard Beller, the Suisse, 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 53 

whose duty, like that of Bousk at Versailles, was 
to fling open the folding doors and announce visitors 
in a stentorian voice; of the maitre d'hotel and 
the first valet de chambre; of the court tailor, 
and even the bird-boy (' garde-bl^s ') of Villers- 
Cotterets. 

To these worthies M. Gruyer devotes a number 
of pages, and there are more than three hundred 
in his bulky quarto volume. Of course, many of 
the personages described are obscure, and de- 
servedly so. But with such a mass of material it 
is hopeless to cope in brief compass ; and we must 
henceforth confine ourselves to the attractive 
section of ' Grandes Dames,' and to a few miscel- 
laneous portraits, which, for one reason or another, 
present especial interest. In depicting the great 
ladies, Carmontelle, with his sense of grace, and 
his feeling for frippery must have taken unending 
delight. Many of his models were justly renowned 
for their beauty — the Duchesse de Chevreuse,^ 
Mile, de Bernay, Mme. du Tartre, the Comtesse 

' The Duke's portrait is not at Chantilly, but, as already 
stated at p. 42 «., in the British Museum. Husband and wife 
are each represented by simple drawings in black and red 
crayon; and both are dated 1758, during the Seven Years' 
War. The Duke's portrait was engraved by Auguste de 
Saint-Aubin. 



54 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

d'Egmont, Marshal Richelieu's daughter and 
Walpole's friend, of whom, with her guitar, there 
is a graceful picture. Some, living life well even 
in a court, deserve our admiration for their purity: 
witness that admirable Comtesse de S6ran — the 
Arethusa, or Margaret Godolphin, of a vicious 
Versailles, for all that she was witty as Mme. 
de Sevign6 ; others, the Duchesse de Lauzun, the 
Duchesse de Gramont, the Marquise du Plessis- 
Belliere, and Mme. de Saint-Amarant, compel 
consideration by the magnificent serenity with 
which they suflFered on the scaffold. In a few of 
the drawings here reproduced, the composition 
includes several figures. One is an attractive 
group, consisting of the Presidente Lamoignon, 
a charming young mother of seven-and-twenty, 
with her four children, three girls and a boy — 
engaging little figures which not even lace caps 
and the proprieties of a Louis-Quinze costume 
can wholly deprive of their native artlessness; the 
other shows the Comtesse de Rumain, her eldest 
daughter the Comtesse de Polignac, and Mile, de 
Rumain. This is a *sc6ne de salon.' The mother 
bends over the younger girl as she sits stiffly practis- 
ing at what Tony Lumpkin calls the * haspicolls ' ; 
the elder sister, a graceful figure, is working 
quietly on a tambour. Between the columns at 



The Portraits of Carniontelh 55 

the back you get a glimpse of a park. Turn the 
leaf, and you come on that emotional, clever 
Mile, de Lespinasse, who behaved so ungratefully 
to Mme. du Deffand.^ And very clever she looks 
in her dark dress and white lace, suggesting all 
the intellectual alertness for which she was re- 
nowned. ' She talked for the most part on plain 
subjects,' says the insensible Comte de Guibert 
for whom she sighed in secret, 'but she did not 
express herself in a common way, and this art, 
which seemed to be a second nature with her, 
never obtruded itself upon notice, and never led 
her into affectation.' Turn the leaf once more, 
and it is a stately Comtesse de Vauban, ' gathering 
rosebuds while she may,' in a ' robe, a double jupe 
et a volants,' with a stupendous ' head ' and teles- 
cope curls (* rouleaux '), surmounted by a garland 
of eglantine, which again is crowned by a flutter 
of bone-lace lappets. But the details of costume 
would be interminable. Satins and taffeties, frills 
and furbelows, ribbons and flowers, ruches and 
' pliss6s ' — the bare enumeration would tax all the 
exact terminology of the Goncourts and the 

' It is just possible that this portrait, a great favourite 
with Carmonteile, was done for Mme. du DeiFand, as it 
is dated 1760, which comes within the ten years (1754-64) 
when the two ladies were still friends. 



56 The Portraits of Carmontelle 

elegant science of M. Octave Uzanne. We must 
pass to our miscellaneous figures. 

It has already been stated that Ledans, failing 
to find a purchaser for the Carmontelle gallery in 
Talleyrand, sold some of the drawings separately, 
which should account for the conspicuous absence 
of certain notable names. There is no portrait of 
Voltaire, for instance, in M. Gruyer's catalogue. 
But Carmontelle certainly drew Voltaire, since, 
as we shall see, the drawing has been engraved. 
Again, one might reasonably have looked for 
Rousseau, who was in Paris at the close of 1766. 
The only Rousseau mentioned, however, is Mme. 
Rousseau, wife of the famous ' maitre d'armes des 
enfants de France,' to whom one of his judges, 
dismissing him to the guillotine, had the heartless- 
ness to add 'Pare celle-ci, Rousseau !' — a barbarity 
worthy of Stevenson's Braxfield. Then there was 
certainly a Benjamin Franklin, for although it is 
not here reproduced, we have seen a copy of the 
engraving made from it, which is declared to be 
an excellent likeness, and represents him about 
1780, when he was United States Minister.^ But 

' It is to be found among the portraits of Franklin 
included in the interesting facsimile of 'Poor Richard's 
Almanack for 1733,' issued by 'The Duodecimos' of 
New York, 1894, p. 4.8. The engraver was D. Nee. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 57 

where there is so much, it is needless to note omis- 
sions. If there is no Voltaire, there is the Abbe 
de Voisenon, whom Voltaire perfidiously flattered; 
there are Grimm and Holbach, philosophes ; there 
are Bachaumont and Duclos of the 'Memoirs'; 
there is M. de Buffon (in his literary velvet and 
laced ruffles, and wearing the Order of St. 
Michael) ; there is that patron of the arts, Mme. 
de Pompadour's brother, the Marquis de Marigny; 
there is the amiable Louis Racine, whose* Memoir' 
of his now somewhat discredited father ^ was the 
favourite book of Rogers. Among the musicians 
is Rameau, a characteristic and long-legged figure, 
scribbling a score in front of his spinet; there is 
also a well-known Mozart group. The little boy 
of seven in an elaborate suit of sky-blue, trimmed 
with lace, and perched on a chair, the seat of 
which has been temporarily raised by cushions, 
is at the harpsichord; his sister, a girl of twelve, 
sings sedately by his side, while the father, Leopold 
Mozart, in red velvet, accompanies on the violin.* 

1 See 'Racine in the Dock,' by M. Augustin Filon, 
'Fortnightly Review/ September 1911 — a review of the 
recent study of the author of ' Athaiie ' by his great- 
grandson, M. Masson Forestier. 

- ' Mozart, as a child,' also appears in B. Olivier's ' The 
a I'Anglaise chez le Prince de Conti' (that is— at the 



58 T lie Portraits of Carmontelle 

But, to the English student, perhaps the most 
interesting portraits will be those of Garrick and 
Sterne. The two figures in the former represent 
the Garrick of Tragedy confronted by his second 
self, the Garrick of Comedy. Grimm's contem- 
porary description puts this clearly: ' M. de 
Carmontelle,' he writes in July, 1765, 'has drawn 
Garrick in a tragic attitude, and facing this 
Garrick, he has placed, between two folding 
doors, a comic Garrick, who bursts upon the 
tragic Garrick and makes fun of him,' ^ Such a 
presentment of the great actor's dual personality 
is certainly a happy thought. The Sterne, which 
belongs to a somewhat earlier date (1762), is 
referred to in that writer's correspondence : ' The 
Duke of Orleans,' he tells Garrick, ' has suffered 
my portrait to be added to the number of some 
odd men in his collection ; and a gentleman who 
lives with him has taken it most expressively.' 

Palace of the Temple), now in the Musee du Louvre. He 
is playing the harpsichord, accompanied on the guitar by 
the singer Jelyotte. Several of Carmontelle's sitters are 
also present: the two Countesses d'Egmont, the Countess 
de Boufflers, the Duchess de Lauzun, the Prince de Conti, 
and M. Pont-de-Veyle. 

' Grimm's ' Correspondance Littdraire.' Ledans says 
Carmontelle's drawing was made at the Orleans chateau of 
Le Raincy. 



The Portraits of Cannontelle 59 

Expressive it assuredly is, and as fortunate as that 
of ' Roscius.' ' Yorick ' is shown standing on the 
terrace of the Palais Royal (?), the dome of the 
Invalides (?) in the background. A tall, spare 
figure, with a sub-humorous look, he leans easily 
on a chair-back, one hand in his pocket, and he is 
decorously attired in a black suit, lace ruffles and 
a loose cravat. He has the long nose and the lips 
of the Nollekens terra-cotta of four years later, 
and it is probable that Carmontelle's is a closer 
likeness than the idealized Reynolds at Lansdowne 
House.* 

What became of the popular transparencies, is 
doubtful. One of them is said to have been sold; 
but others, being included in the catalogue of 
1807, must have been still undisposed of at Car- 
montelle's death. From a note byMme. de Genlis, 
it would seem that negotiations were at one 
time on foot to sell them advantageously in 
Russia, though she had no further information on 
the subject.'"' The illustrations to the description 

' Sterne speaks of obtaining an etching of the drawing, 
but this is unknown. The original portrait did not form 
part of the Ledans collection. It was bought separately 
in London by the Due d'Aumale for ^^64. A few copies 
were issued in 1890 by Messrs. Colnaghi. 

^ See Appendix A (Carmontelle's Transparencies). 



6o The Portraits of Carmontelle 

of the Park of Monceau have already been re- 
ferred to.' But a closing word must be devoted 
to the other engravings after Carmontelle's dravi^- 
ings, some of the originals of which are in the 
Mus6e Cond6, and some not. The bulk of these 
were by Jean-Baptiste-Joseph de La Fosse, the 
engraver of ' La Malheureuse Famille Calas.' He 
is credited among other things with a portrait of 
the ' gros Due ' on horseback, in hunting costume, 
and duly furnished with the regulation cor-de- 
chasse; with portraits of the Duke and the Due 
de Chartres in a billiard-room; of Rameau; of 
the Abb6 de Chauvelin, and of the Mozart 
group. Other engravers who copied Carmontelle 
were Houel, Miger, Auguste de Saint-Aubin, 
J. B. Tilliard ('Pas de Deux'), and Nicolas Ran- 
sonnette. To Carmontelle himself are assigned 
etchings of the Abb6 Allaire, ' Egalit6's ' precep- 
tor ; of the Baron de Besenval, familiar in Carlyle ; 
and of Voltaire, walking in the neighbourhood of 
'• Les D61ices.' Carmontelle also executed a plate 
of ' La Bouquetidre ' after Boucher. But his fame 
as an artist will rest mainly on the series of por- 
traits in the Mus6e Condd, a standing testimony 

^ Two of these, the Naumachia and the Temple of 
White Marble, are reproduced in Cain's ' Nouveiles 
Promenades dans Paris,' n.d., pp. 322, 326. 



The Portraits of Carmontelle 6i 

to his exceptional gift of accurate observation, 
his extraordinary fertility, and his no less extra- 
ordinary industry. If his work never attained 
the level of excellence which gives it the stamp 
of genius, it was of no small service to his con- 
temporaries ; and it is still of enduring interest 
to the historian, the antiquary, and the archaeo- 
logist.^ 

* Since this paper first appeared in the ' National Review' 
for June, 191 1, a long and interesting article on Carmon- 
telle, under the title of ' Un Amuseur Oublie,' has been 
contributed to the * Revue des Deux Mondes,' by M, 
Augustin Thierry (15th April, 1912). 



GARRICK'S 'GRAND TOUR' 

WITH Davies and Murphy, with Boaden's 
bulky ' Correspondence,' with the two 
lives of Mr. Percy Fitzgerald, and the compact 
monograph of the late Joseph Knight, it might 
not unreasonably be supposed that Garrick 
material, in spite of its extent, had already been 
sufficiently exploited. But whether the much- 
suspected final word has, or has not, been uttered, 
it must be granted that discussion of a subject from 
a fresh standpoint is never wholly out of date. 
While there are German inquirers and French 
appraisers (and indications are not wanting that 
each is learnino; somethino; from the methods of 
the other), we may always be glad to welcome 
a supplementary study of Garrick, either Teutonic 
or Gallic, feehng assured that English writers, as 
well as readers, could not fail of instruction. 
Great biographers we have, living and dead; but 
it can scarcely be asserted that in this particular 
department the general level of craftsmanship is 
unimpeachable ; or that performances such as the 
Burns of the late M. Auguste Angeliier, or the 
62 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 63 

Crabbe of M. Ren6 Huchon, are turned out by 
the dozen in our favoured land. Then, in addi- 
tion to the new survey or the neglected aspect, 
there is the separate treatment of episodes or 
incidents vv^ith vi^hich a foreigner, should his ow^n 
country or customs be concerned, is naturally 
better qualified to deal than an outsider. Rousseau 
or Voltaire in England are themes more suited to 
an Englishman than to a Frenchman: Sterne or 
Garrick in France, on the contrary, may offer 
greater facilities to a Frenchman than an 
Englishman. In the case of Sterne, something 
has been done by the capable volume issued by 
M. Paul Stapfer in 1870 ; but, in our own day, 
it has been reserved for Mons. F. A. Hedgcock, 
' Docteur-es-Lettres ' of the Sorbonne, to turn 
his special attention to Garrick's experiences 
abroad.^ 

To Garrick, then, as seen for the moment 
through alien glasses, this latest inquiry is con- 
fined. Its author does not contemplate another 

' * David Garrick et ses Amis Fran^ais,' by F. A. Hedg- 
cock, 191 1. This was a thesis presented to the University 
of Paris for the ' Doctorat-es-Lettres. M. Hedgcock, who 
is EngHsh by birth, and 'doctus sermones utriusque Hnguae,' 
has recently translated it, with additions (Stanley Paul and 
Co.). HeisnowlecturerinFrench literatureintheUniversity 
of Birmingham. 



64 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

life of the great * acteur cosmopolite,' as he styles 
him; but he professes, from sources published 
and unpublished, to trace out the story of 
Garrick's relations with the French comedians 
who in 1749 visited London, and also of his 
travels on the Continent in 1763-5. With this 
object M. Hedgcock has diligently examined 
the numerous letters written by foreigners in the 
thirty-five volumes of Garrick's Correspondence 
at South Kensington — a mine until now more 
prospected than explored. And to the result of 
his investigations, he has prefixed such a brief 
biographical introduction and general estimate as 
serve to explain and illustrate Garrick's position 
with respect to his Gallic contemporaries. But 
even this modest design affords him an opportunity 
of rectifying some of the undetected lapses of 
his forerunners. Of these corrections, the most 
notable is contained in an appendix to his opening 
chapter, disposing of the claim — never it seems 
put forward seriously by the actor himself— to 
noble French extraction. His alleged connection 
with the Perigourdin De la Garrigues turns out 
to be as unsupported as Fielding's supposed descent 
from the Habsburgs, since reference to the mar- 
riage register of his grandfather, David Garric, 
proves conclusively that the said grandfather was 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour' 65 

a Protestant ' bourgeois et marchand ' of Bordeaux 
la Bastide; and that his wife, Jeanne, was the 
daughter of Jean Sarrazin, also a ' marchand,' of 
Pons in Saintonge. In other words, the imme- 
diate ancestors of our English Roscius were 
frankly middle-class and commercial; and of 
' sangre azul,' as the Spaniards call it, there is 
no distinguishable trace. But Huguenot and Bor- 
delais, with a dash of Irish vivacity from the 
maternal side, is by no means a bad histrionic 
blend. 

Future English writers on Garrick will do 
wisely to note this little amendment of an oft- 
repeated statement, unless indeed they are in a 
position to contradict it — a rather remote con- 
tingency. But it is beside M. Hedgcock's inten- 
tion to pick holes in Garrick's pedigree; and 
this is only a casual detail of the chapter prefacing 
his main purpose. In the same chapter he also 
touches briefly on Garrick's aspects as actor, 
Shakespeare-lover and author. As author he 
counts least. A fortunate epigram or a happily 
turned prologue does not make a poet. Nor can it 
be pretended that adaptations from the French, 
however adroit, constitute stagecraft; and it is to 
be noted that, in ' The Clandestine Marriage,' 
the only one of Garrick's pieces which has passed 

F 



66 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

into the repertoire, the elder Colman was his 
collaborator.^ Of his abridgments and readjust- 
ments of Shakespeare's text, apart from his im- 
personation of Shakespeare's characters, the less 
said the better, although, having regard to the 
French influence they betray, they cannot be 
entirely disregarded. But as an actor, there is no 
doubt as to his undisputed supremacy; and 
M. Hedgcock's quotations from Grimm and 
Preville show how thoroughly this was recog- 
nized by his admirers of Outre-Manche. What 
seems to have struck them most was the mar- 

^ It is true that he is credited with more quoted passages 
than some greater men. But his jewels are mostly old 
gems re-set. His * fellow-feeling makes one wondrous 
kind,' comes virtually, like Captain Shandon's Greek and 
Latin, from Burton's ' Anatomy'; and, as pointed out in 
a later paper in this volume, his oft-cited couplet on the 
fugitive nature of the actor's art had been anticipated by 
Robert Lloyd. One of his less known couplets opens the 
' Prologue ' to that hapless ' Virginia ' of Fanny Burney's 
' Daddy Crisp': 

PROLOGUES, like compliments, are loss of time; 
'Tis penning bows, and making legs in rhyme. 

The manuscript of the ' Clandestine Marriage,' it may 
be added, partly in Colman's and partly in Garrick's hand- 
writing, was recently on sale in London. It has now gone 
— where so many good things now go — to America. 



i 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour'' 6y 

vellous versatility which enabled him to pass 
instantaneously from comedy to tragedy, or vice 
versa.^ And the additional fact that, like Rousseau, 
very few of his audience could have understood 
English, is a standing proof of that extraordinary 
facial power to which so many have testified 
from Johnson to Lichtenberg. Grimm's words 
are not newj but they will bear repetition j and 
we make a somewhat longer quotation than 
M. Hedgcock: ' It is easy to contort one's face; 
that may be conceived; but Garrick knows 
neither grimace nor exaggeration ; all the changes 
that take place in his features arise out of the 
manner in which he is affected internally: he 
never exceeds the truth ; and he knows that 
other inconceivable secret of improving his ap- 
pearance without other aid than passion. We 
have seen him play the dagger scene in the 
tragedy of ' Macbeth,' in a room, in his ordinary 
dress, without any help from theatrical illusion ; 
and in proportion as with his eyes he followed 

^ Sterne confirms this in a letter to Garrick. from Paris 
of loth April 1762 : "Tis the greatest problem in nature, 
in this meridian, that one and the same man should 
possess such tragic and comic powers, and in such an 
equilibrio, as to divide the world for which of the two 
Nature intended him. ('Works,' 1798, ix, 78.) 



68 GarricUs ' Grand Tour ' 

this dagger hanging and moving in the air, his 
expression became so fine [' il devenait si beau 'J as 
to extract a general cry of admiration from all the 
assembly. Will it be credited that this same man, 
a moment afterwards, imitates with equal per- 
fection a pastry-cook's boy, who, gaping about 
him in the street, his stock-in-trade on his head, 
lets his tray tumble in the gutter, and dumb- 
founded at first with his accident, ends by bursting 
into tears.^ 

Another testimony, that of the famous Preville 
— 'Mercury himself,' Sterne calls him — is less 
known. After speaking of the actor's obligation 
to assume all parts, he says : ' Nature is niggard 
of these phenomena, who appear once in a cen- 
tury, and such, incontestably, is a comedian so 
endowed. For our century this phenomenon 
was reserved to England : Garrick had no rival 
in any country, and the title [of Roscius] which 

' Grimm, ' Corr. Litt.,' July, 1765. The pieman's mis- 
adventures must have been a never failing contemporary 
jest. In Hogarth's ' Four Times of the Day,' 1738, a boy 
is shown crying uproariously because he has broken the 
dish he is bringing from the baker's by setting it down too 
smartly on a post; and in the ' March to Finchley,' 1750, 
a pieman, with a tray on his head, is being robbed by a 
man who is insidiously drawing his attention to a trick 
played on a milkmaid. 




THE TWO GARRICK.S: BY CARMONTEI.LE 



(FROM gruyer's "chantilly: les portraits de carmontelle, 

BY PERMISSION OF MM. PI.ON-NOURKIT ET CIE.) 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 69 

he merited is still unclaimed.' ^ Probably it was 
this peculiar mobility of feature which led Car- 
montelle, in his Chantilly portrait, to depict 
Garrick, in one and the same design, as comedian 
and tragedian. Indeed (although the point does 
not appear to have been noted), the posture and 
gestures of the tragic Garrick are precisely those 
which he might have been expected to assume in 
the aforementioned scene from ' Macbeth.' He is 
certainly looking at something in the air, and not 
at his comic double.^ 

With Garrick's personality we may now how- 
ever dispense, and pass to his foreign friends. 
Foremost of these was one Jean Monnet, whose 
very chequered experiences as page to the Duchess 
of Berry, printer, author, Trappist, prisoner in 

1 'Memoirs' of Pr^ville, 1823, 

* See ante, p. 58. There is a passage in Diderot's 
* Paradoxe sur le Comedien' which is worth quoting in 
this connection : ' Garrick will put his head between two 
folding doors, and in the course of five or six seconds his 
expression will change successively from wild delight to 
temperate pleasure, from this to tranquillity, from tran- 
quillity to surprise, from surprise to blank astonishment, 
from that to sorrow, from sorrow to the air of one over- 
whelmed, from that to fright, from fright to horror, from 
horror to despair, and thence he will go up again to the 
point from which he started. (W. H. Pollock's translation, 
1883, p. 38.) 



70 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

the Bastille, Director of the Theatre de la Foire 
(de Saint Germain), and so forth, had brought him 
at last in 1749 to London with a troupe of French 
actors. He had come at the invitation of John 
Rich, the manager of Covent Garden ; but Rich, 
alarmed by some ominous indications of Gallo- 
phobia, withdrew from his bargain. Thereupon 
Monnet, at a nonplus, turned to Garrick, who 
befriended him, with the result that Monnet and 
his company opened the little theatre in the 
Haymarket. Rich's apprehensions were by no 
means groundless. The first representation closed 
ignobly with a dispute between the boxes and the 
gallery; and silence was only secured for the 
second by a formidable cohort of hired butchers 
and watermen. Finally the Lord Chamberlain 
stopped the performance; and Monnet had to 
console himself as he could with the subventions 
of his supporters, and a benefit generously bestowed 
on him by Garrick. The result of these things 
was a lifelong friendship between the two men; 
and there are some fifty of Monnet's letters to 
Garrick in the Forster Collection. Henceforth it 
is Monnet who becomes, so to speak, Garrick's 
indefatigable agent and Paris correspondent. 
' Coiffures ' and laces for Mrs. Garrick ; new plays 
and engravings for her husband ; dancers, cooks, 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 7 1 

jeweller?, professors of French — in all these 
matters Monnet is the adviser and universal pro- 
vider; and the more devoted and assiduous, be- 
cause, before a few^ years are over, his regained 
position as Director of the Opera Comique has 
left him an enriched and unoccupied man.^ He 
gave Garrick invaluable aid in the lighting and 
decorating of Drury Lane; and it w^as to Monnet 
that Garrick vv^as indebted for an introduction to 
one of his most useful coadjutors, Casanova's 
pupil, the painter Philip de Loutherbourg, w^ho 
eventually became superintendent of the scenery 
and machinery of the theatre. More than one of 
Garrick's occasional pieces ow^ed their existence, 
if not their origin, to the effective picture-setting 
of de Loutherbourg, A second notability whom 
Monnet sent to Garrick was the pyrotechnist, 
Torr^, to whose Marylebone Garden fireworks 
Dr. Johnson unkindly, and quite indefensibly, 
compared the metrical ' coruscations ' of the author 
of ' An Elegy in a Country Church Yard.' Lastly, 
it was through Monnet that Garrick made the 
acquaintance of yet another luminary of Maryle- 
bone, Haydn's friend, Barthel^mon the violinist, 

^ One of C, N. Cochin's profiles, excellently engraved 
by Saint- Aubin, gives an attractive idea of Monnet. It has 
also a neatly appropriate motto: ' Mulcet, mo'vet, monet.^ 



72 Garrick's ' Grand Tour^ 

who, beginning as leader of the band there, ended 
by conducting the orchestra at Vauxhall. 

To visit Monnet, Garrick, in all probability, 
made his first journey to Paris, taking with him 
his wife, Eva Maria Violette, to whom he had 
been married two years before; and 'who (adds 
Davies) from the day of her marriage to the death 
of her husband, had never been separated from 
him for twenty-four hours.' One of his fellow 
travellers is said to have been Sir George Lewis, 
afterwards murdered in the Forest of Bondy/ 
Another 'compagnon de voyage' was 'M. Denis,' 
who may have been that Charles Denis, the later 
friend of Churchill and Robert Lloyd, whom the 
latter fondly regarded as ' La Fontaine by trans- 
migration ' — a description which, judging from 
the versions in the ' St. James's Magazine,' sug- 

^ With this event is associated one of the numerous 
legends arising out of Garrick's remarkable mimetic 
powers. The suspected murderer, an Italian count, was 
on the point of being released for want of evidence, when 
Garrick, making up as the dead man, extorted from the 
terrified criminal an admission of his guilt. The story is 
on a par with that later fable of the journalist de la Place, 
which represents Garrick as impersonating Fielding long 
after his death, in order to prove that, in this way, he had 
helped Hogarth to recall the features — the very marked 
features, be it added — of his former friend. 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour' 73 

gests an imperfect estimate of the supreme art 
of the French ' conteur.' It is unfortunate that 
Garrick's journal of 1751 has been lost, as this 
fact, coupled with the fact that the record was 
probably restricted to Monnet's circle, has of 
necessity limited M. Hedgcock's investigations. 
As regards Garrick's presentation to Louis XV, 
M. Hedgcock has discovered no confirmatory evid- 
ence. But he has disinterred from the ' Journal ' 
of the vaudevillist, Charles Colle — who is his 
authority for the mention of Denis, and who, like 
Carmontelle, was one of the readers to the ' gros 
Due ' of Orleans — an entry relating to a meet- 
ing on 1 2th July, between the 'French Anacreon' 
and the ' English Roscius.' Garrick acted for 
Colle the famous dagger-scene, of which Grimm's 
account has already been quoted ; and Colle's 
recollections fully bear out Grimm's report. ' He 
[Garrick] filled us with terror; it is not possible 
to depict a situation better, to render it with 
greater warmth, and at the same time to be more 
self-possessed.' * ' He considers all our actors more 

1 At this date, it should be observed that, although 
some of Shakespeare's plays had been poorly translated by 
de la Place, Shakespeare was little known in France gener- 
ally. The inadequate ' Hamlet ' of Duels (who had no 
English) was not acted until 1769; his ' Romeo et Juliette ' 
in 1772 J his 'Lear 'in 1783, and his ' Macbeth' in 1784. 



74 Garrick's ' Grand Tour^ 

or less bad (C0II6 continues); and in this respect 
we say ditto to him,' But Garrick must have 
made exception in favour of Mile. Clairon, w^hose 
merits afterwards conquered both Goldsmith and 
Gibbon.^ With some professional reservations, 
he greatly admired her; and predicted for her 
the more distinguished future she achieved. 

His correspondence contains but one reference 
to this expedition ; and that is in a letter to his 
brother Peter, apparently written, after his re- 
turn to England, from Lord Burlington's house 
at Chiswick: 'You ask mc (he says) hov/ I like 
France? It is y^ best place in the World to make 
a Visit to & I was indeed much satisfy'd with 
my Journey. ... I had much honour done me 
both by French & English j & Every body and 
Thing contributed to make me happy. The 
great fault of our Countrymen is, y* when they 
go to Paris, they keep too much among them- 
selves, but if they would mix w^^ y® French as 
I did, it is a most agreeable Jaunt.' When Gar- 
rick left Paris, and whether his departure was in 
any way connected with a frustrated project for 
attracting French talent to London, an enterprise 
in which the ' pr6v6t des marchands ' found it 

' Goldsmith's 'Bee,' 1759, No. 25 Gibbon's 'Auto- 
biographies,' 1896, pp. 204, 262. 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour' 75 

necessary to intervene, it is impossible to say. In 
any case, he was back in England in July 1751. 
A period of more than twelve years elapsed 
before he again crossed the Channel. But in the 
interval he added two to the list of his French 
friends, of whom one, by the promise of his brief 
life, deserves a passing mention. This was Claude- 
Pierre Patu, a consumptive young advocate and 
dramatist, much interested in England, and an 
enthusiast in Shakespeare and Garrick. At the 
end of 1754, in spite of the fogs, he came to 
London for a few weeks, assiduously frequenting 
Drury Lane Theatre. He speedily grew intimate 
with the accessible actor, who received him with 
'une politesse vraiment fran^aise'; and, going 
back to France, began, like Monnet, to corre- 
spond regularly with his new friend on matters 
theatrical and literary. He showed much atten- 
tion to Garrick's colleague, Mrs. Pritchard, when 
she visited Paris with her daughter; he assisted 
in negotiating between Garrick and the dancer 
Noverre. One of his projects, anticipating John- 
son, was to write, in conjunction with Garrick, 
a ' Parnasse Anglois,' or Lives of the British 
Poets, which was to reveal to his benighted 
countrymen the unsuspected riches of our insular 
muse. To Fr6ron's 'Journal Etranger' he con- 



76 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

tributed papers on many English subjects — Mrs. 
Charlotte Lenox's ' Shakespeare Illustrated,' the 
* Barbarossa ' of Dr. Brown of the ' Estimate ' 
(that 'Barbarossa' whose midnight bell was so 
dear to Johnson's 'Dick Minim'!), the altera- 
tions of Garrick in 'Romeo and Juliet,' and 
(perhaps) a version of Garrick's adaptation of 
Motteux, the 'Lying Valet.' But in 1756, he 
certainly issued anonymously, under the title 
' Choix de Petites Pieces du Theatre Anglais,' ^ 
two volumes of translations of English Plays, the 
second of which consisted of the ' Beggar's 
Opera' and the 'What d'ye Call It' of Gay, 
whom he greatly admired. Patu must have 
been a singularly engaging personage, since he 
succeeded in conciliating both Voltaire and Fre- 
ron ; and he even contrived, at the Delices, to 

^ This was not the first translation, for, strangely 
enough, it was with a version made (says Patu) * by a 
German who knew neither English nor French,' that in 
1749 Monnet's company had attempted to attract an 
English audience. Patu's rendering (now before us) is a 
creditable production, usefully annotated. He also trans- 
lated, in his first volume, Dodsley's 'Toy-Shop,' 'King 
and the Miller of Mansfield,' and ' Blind Beggar of Bethnal 
Green,' as well as Coffey's popular ' Wives Metamorphosed,' 
some of which pieces found imitators in France. Sedaine's 
' Diable a Quatre,' for instance, is based on Coffey. 



Garrtck^s ' Grand Tour' yy 

champion that 'amiable barbarian,' Shakespeare. 
Until M, Hedgcock and M. Huchon discovered 
him, little seems to have been know^n of him; 
and though Boaden prints his letters, French 
and English, Garrick's English biographers never 
mention his name. Unhappily, he w^as of those 
whom the Fates but show to mankind, for he 
died prematurely of decline in 1757. To Eng- 
land he never returned; but he retained his pre- 
dilection for us to the end; and his final missive 
to Garrick from Naples in November 1756, the 
last of a packet which the actor had labelled ' Poor 
Patu's Letters,' closes with the Ghost's farewell 
in ' Hamlet ' — ' Adieu ! Remember me ! ' 

Jean-Georges Noverre, or the ' Chevalier ' 
Noverre, another of Garrick's French friends at 
this date, is not at the altitude of Patu, although 
as a popular ' maitre-de-ballet,' he was naturally 
more widely known. He had been introduced 
to Garrick by Monnet, one of whose company 
he had been at the Theatre de la Foire. In 1754 
he had delighted the Parisians by two elaborate 
choregraphic entertainments, both described as 
triumphs of artful variety and ingenious com- 
bination — the 'Fetes Chinoises' and the 'Fon- 
taine de Jouvence.' Garrick endeavoured to se- 
cure the ' Chinese Festival ' troupe for Drury 



78 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

Lane ; and after protracted preliminaries with 
Noverre, who, being a Swiss, developed all the 
mercenary aptitudes of his race, they arrived in 
London in November 1755. But the moment 
was singularly ill chosen. England was on the 
eve of that Seven Years' War whose origin so 
perplexed the eminent historian, Mr. Barry 
Lyndon; and animosity to 'insulting Gaul' was 
— especially among the lower classes — in its 
acutest stage. It was idle to protest to an un- 
reasoning mob that Noverre was of another 
nationality; as Foote said later in the 'Minor,' 
the ' patriot gingerbread baker from the Borough ' 
vv^ould not sufFer ' dancers from Switzerland, 
because he hated the French.' Even though 
George II attended the first representations of 
the ' Chinese Festival,' there were disturbances 
at the outset, which increased in intensity with 
every renewal of the performance. Constant 
collisions took place between the rival factions; 
blows were exchanged, swords drawn, benches 
torn up, mirrors and lustres smashed, and not a 
few persons maimed or injured. On the i8th, 
the disorder reached its culminating point. The 
unfortunate dancers were assailed with a storm 
of peas and tin-tacks; and as soon as the pit was 
cleared by the boxes, it was re-captured by the 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour' 79 

gallery. At last a battalion of hired bruisers, 
entering the theatre, ejected the malcontents, 
who hurried off vindictively to smash Garrick's 
windows, and, if possible, burn his house in 
Southampton Street. So ended a fortnight's scan- 
dal. Garrick seems nevertheless to have behaved 
liberally to Noverre, although he had suffered 
heavily by the damage to his property; and it is 
to Noverre's subsequent ' Lettres sur les Arts 
imitateurs ' that we owe one of the best and 
most detailed accounts of Garrick's acting. It is 
too lengthy to reproduce entire j but it is the 
report of an expert eye-witness ; and one or two 
passages confirming what has already been said 
may find a place here: 'He [Garrick] was so 
natural, his expression had so much truth, his 
gestures, his physiognomy, and his looks were so 
eloquent and so persuasive, that they placed even 
those who knew no English in possession of the 
facts of the story. He could be followed easily; 
he touched in the pathetic; in the tragic he 
aroused all the successive emotions of the most 
violent passions. ... In the higher comedy he 
captivated and entranced ; in the lesser kind he 
amused ; and he transformed himself in the theatre 
with so much art that he was often unrecognized 
by persons who habitually lived with him. . . . He 



8o Garrick's ' Grand Tour^ 

may, without partiality, be regarded as the Roscius 
of England, because with diction, delivery, fire, 
nature, wit and delicacy, he combined that 
pantomime and that rare expression of dumb 
show which characterize the great actor and the 
complete comedian.' 

Noverre, it is safe to infer, owed much to 
Garrick; and it was from Garrick that he learned 
the sovereign use of gesture and expression, even 
in dancing. 

With May 1756 the Seven Years' War began, 
and further trips to France had to be indefinitely 
postponed, though Garrick often cast a longing 
eye across the Channel, and even during the 
progress of hostilities cherished vague projects 
for re-visiting his French friends. At the Peace 
of Paris all these inclinations revived with new 
pertinacity, heightened by the reports of Sterne, 
who preceded him by several months. He was 
grievously in want of change ; his sleepless energy 
had impaired his health; he was fretted by petty 
cabals and jealousies, and, excellent actor though 
he was, the fickle public had grown a little weary 
of him. Consequently, leaving Drury Lane to 
his partner Lacy and his brother George, with 
Colman for literary assessor, he started for the 
Continent in September 1763, carrying with him 



Garrick's * Grand Tour* 8i 

Mrs. Garrick and his pet dog, Biddy. Four days 
later he reached the French capital. His first 
visit was to the Theatre fran^ais, of which he 
was straightway made free. Here Mile. Dumesnil 
was acting in La Chaussee's ' crying comedy ' of 
' La Gouvernante'; and apparently struck Gar- 
rick chiefly by what Gibbon calls her ' intem- 
perate sallies.' ' She made use,' Garrick wrote, 
' of little startings and twitchings, which are 
visibly artificial, and the mere mimicry of the 
free, simple, and noble working of the passions.' ^ 
He called on Preville; and on Mile. Clairon, of 
whose marked advance in her new manner he 
had heard from Sterne. ' She is highly improved 
since you saw her,' Yorick had said. But the 
* Blanche et Guiscard ' of Saurin, then being 
played at the Comedie, a version of Thomson's 
'Tancred and Sigismunda' in which Garrick him- 
self had often acted Tancred, was not one of 
her successes, although, if we are to believe 
Bachaumont's ' Memoires Secrets,' he gave her 
hints. This may have been the case, as the re- 
hearsals were in progress when he arrived. But 
he is discreetly silent as to the piece and her part 
in it. 

Shortly after its production at the close of 
^ Fitzgerald's * Garrick,' 1899, p. ^^4' 
G 



82 Garrick's * Grand Tour ' 

September, he must have left Paris for Italy, 
going first to Lyons; and it was more than a 
year before he saw Paris again. Making his way 
from Lyons to Turin, he sent a gossiping letter 
to his brother George, asking for news of the 
theatre; begging him to forward Churchill's 
* Ghost' (presumably Book IV, the last pub- 
lished); warning him not to let the sun spoil 
Hogarth's Election pictures (then hanging in the 
bow-room at Hampton House), and so forth. 
Perhaps the most important item of intelligence 
in this communication is the announcement that 
Voltaire has warmly invited him to visit Ferney, 
a pleasure which he proposes to defer until his 
return from Italy. But he is clearly much dis- 
turbed by Voltaire's declaration, in the ' Essai 
sur les Moeurs et I'Esprit des Nations,' ^ that 
there was ' more Barbarism than Genius in Shake- 
speare's works.' From Turin the Garricks passed 
to Milan ; next to Genoa and Florence, where 
they were welcomed by Frederick the Great's 
Chamberlain, the poet Francesco Algarotti, then 
ill and failing. Garrick recommended him to try 
that rival in popularity to Dr. James's Fever 
Powder, the Tar Water of Bishop Berkeley. 
But tar water helped the poor * Swan of Padua ' 
^ Works, 1819, vol. XV, p. 94. 



Garrick^s ' Grand Tour ' 83 

as little as it had helped Fielding, for Algarotti 
died in the following year, on the very day that 
he had written for Garrick an introduction to 
some of his friends at his old home, Bologna. 
After a fortnight's sight-seeing in Rome the 
travellers went on to the Christmas festivities at 
Naples, whence arrive to George Garrick fresh 
accounts of the grand people who were every- 
where feting and flattering his illustrious brother 
— Lord and Lady Spencer, Lord Exeter, Lady 
Orford (Horace Walpole's erratic sister-in-law). 
Lord Palmerston — and of endless balls, suppers 
and masquerades. He has ' forgot England, and 
all his trumpery at Drury Lane.' He is collect- 
ing musical data for Burney ; he has made the 
acquaintance of the two Dances, one of whom 
Nathaniel (afterwards Sir Nathaniel Dance Hol- 
land), was to paint him most successfully — far 
more successfully than Hogarth — as Richard HL 
He has seen all the curiosities of the neighbour- 
hood; and in the Elysian Fields at Baiae has 
been so * very near wet to the skin,' that he was 
incapacitated for enjoying either Caesar's Palace 
or TuUy's villa.^ 

^ Garrick's little foibles are so familiar that it is only 
fair to clear him of things ' not proven.' He had been 
annoyed, this letter shows, by some gossip in the * St. 



84 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

April finds him once more at Rome, where 
Dance paints, and Nollekens (then six-and- 
twenty) models a first bust of him. In May he 
is at Parma, doing the dagger scene for the Duke 
of York and an illustrious party — ' mouthing for 
snufF-boxes,' as one of his company afterwards 
irreverently put it, in reference to a present he 
received on this occasion. Then he follows the 
Duke to Venice, from which place he writes 
again in June to George Garrick. Both he and 
his wife are unwell; and they are to try the mud 
baths of Abano. The regime seems to have 
suited the lady ; but her husband was not equally 
fortunate. ' I eat and drink too much and laugh 
from morning to night,' he had written from 
Naples. The reviser of ' Romeo and Juliet ' 
should have remembered that Violent delights 
have violent ends.' By the time (August 1764) 
he had reached his next stage, Munich, he was 

James's Chronicle ' about his ' dancing with y^ Duke of 
Devonshire.' Hitherto it has been too hastily assumed 
that ' Duke ' was a mistake for ' Duchess,' with the corol- 
lary that Garrick himself sent the story to press. But 
M. Hedgcock, conscientiously consulting the statement in 
situ, discovers it to be an entirely fictitious account of an 
imaginary fete in honour of the Peace, at which, among 
other things, Mr. Garrick and his Grace were to figure in 
a country-dance! 



Garrick's * Grand Tour' 85 

seriously ill. ' The excellent Continental cookery, 
the long sequence of banquets in which he had 
taken part, Florence wine, and the hours spent 
in a gondola under the oppressive Venetian atmo- 
sphere [these are M. Hedgcock's inexorable 
words !] had ended by producing their effect.' 
That is to say — he was laid up for five weeks 
with severe bilious fever. He was so bad that he 
sketched his own epitaph, which would have 
been more affecting, were it not probable that 
the whole twelve lines were composed for the 
sake of the last two: 

Much-honoured Camden was my friend, 
And Kenrick was my foe. 

His illness pulled him down considerably, and 
he was apparently growing homesick. September 
found him at Augsburg debating whether he 
should join the Duke of Devonshire at 'The 
Spaw,' or pay his promised visit to Voltaire. 
The sudden death of the Duke on 3rd October 
settled one proposition ; and, owing to the state 
of his health, he determined to abandon the other. 
In a highly alembicate epistle, the much-cor- 
rected drafts of which are at South Kensington, he 
excused himself to the autocrat of Ferney, who, 
among other things, had politely offered his ex- 



S6 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

pected guest the use of his little private theatre. 
He should have been happy indeed (Garrick 
wrote) could he have been the means of bringing 
Shakespeare into some favour with M. de Vol- 
taire. ' No enthusiastick Missionary who had con- 
verted the Emperor of China to his religion 
would have been prouder than I, could I have 
reconcil'd the first Genius of Europe to our 
Dramatick faith.' To this, after his fashion, he 
added a qualifying postscript : ' Tho I have called 
Shakespeare our dramatick faith yet I must do 
my country-men the Justice to declare that not- 
withstanding their deserv'd admiration of his 
astonishing Powers they are not bigotted to his 
errors, as some French Journalists have so con- 
fidently afiirm'd.' 

In the course of October he arrived at Paris, 
the air of v/hich, says Grimm, perfectly restored 
him : and for the next six months, despite the 
strain of his illness, he continued a flattered centre 
of attraction. He took a convenient first floor in 
the Rue St. Nicaise close to the Tuileries ; and 
the salons of philosophedom at once flung open 
their doors to him. At the rue Sainte Anne, 
Helv6tius and his wife welcomed him in their 
masnificent hotel, then the rendezvous of all the 
notabilities. 'There,' says M. Hedgcock, in a 



GarricMs ' Grand Tour ' Sy 

carefully wrought passage, ' he meets Diderot, 
the irrepressible, the inquiring, ready to discuss 
everything, flitting from one subject to another 
with astounding rapidity ; D'Alembert, the decoy- 
bird of the dinner-table, the wittiest of talkers, 
who, after a morning spent over mathematical 
problems, came to chat of acting with the Eng- 
lish visitor; the handsome Marmontel, moder- 
ately gifted but much satisfied with himself j Saint- 
Lambert, cold, affected, very picked of speech ; 
Grimm, the keen critic, collecting on all sides 
the material for his " Correspondance Secrete"; 
the Abb^ Morellet, whom Voltaire, for his 
causticity, nicknamed " the Abb^ Mord-les," and 
others beside who composed [what Garat calls] 
the "Etats g^n^raux de I'esprit humain." ' ' 

Another of the houses where he was cordially 
received was that of the author of the ' Syst^me 
de la Nature,' Baron d'Holbach, where, in addi- 
tion to most of the foregoing, he met the im- 
pressionable ex-actress and author, Mme. Ricco- 
boni, afterwards a firm friend and one of the most 
constant, if most impulsive, of his correspond- 
ents. A third rallying-place was the historic salon, 
in the rue St. Honor6, of that ' m^re nourrice 

^ In his English edition M. Hedgcock has expanded 
this; but we preserve our version of the original passage. 



88 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

des philosophes,' Mme. Geoffrin, whose wit and 
conversation attracted not only Hume and Wal- 
pole, but Wilkes and Adam Smith. Here Gar- 
rick found sculptors and artists ; and it was doubt- 
less to this time that he owed his acquaintance 
with Joseph Vernet, the friend of Mme. Vig6e- 
Lebrun ; with Hubert Bourguignon, otherwise 
Gravelot, and with the statuary, J. B. Le Moyne, 
who exhibited a bust of him at the Salon of 1 765. 
In this congenial company Garrick was thor- 
oughly at home. He was of French extraction; 
he spoke French as fluently as his wife spoke 
German; his vivacity, his tact, his insatiable 
' desir de plaire,' were all recommendations to ad- 
mirers already prepossessed in his favour. He 
wanted no pressing to exhibit his talents — made 
no pretence of hesitation ; but was ready at a 
moment's notice to gratify a sympathetic audience. 
* Without waiting for the wish to become a 
petition, alone and surrounded by faces that almost 
touched his own, he played the greatest scenes of 
the English stage. His ordinary coat or cloak, his 
hat and his boots or shoes, as he arranged them, 
became the best conceivable costumes for every 
possible role.'^ For the benefit of listeners his 

^ Garat, * Memoires historiques sur le XVIII Siecle, 
etc.,' 1 82 1, Bk. V. 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 89 

words were sometimes rapidly paraphrased in 
French by the journalist Suard ; but it was need- 
less. * The pantomime of Garrick was the noblest, 
the most energetic, the most pathetic of transla- 
tions.' In regard to this, M. Hedgcock relates 
once more the oft and variously told story of the 
friendly contest between Garrick and Mile. 
Clairon at the house of Mr. Neville of the Em- 
bassy. Mile. Clairon, to draw Garrick out, recited 
passages from Racine and Voltaire: Garrick re- 
sponded with the dagger scene and the soliloquy 
in ' Hamlet.' Then, going on to the madness of 
Lear, he incidentally informed the company what 
had first taught him to depict it. It was the re- 
collection of the poignant distress of an unhappy 
father who, by accident, had dropped his child 
from a window. And presently, leaning over the 
back of a chair, he re-enacted the whole scene — 
the father's agony, horror, insanity — with such 
tremendous effect that, as Murphy says, ' tears 
gushed from every eye in the room.' ' Never 
have I seen anything more dreadful,' writes 
Grimm, who was present; and Marmontel, an- 
other guest, after a night's rest, was still tremu- 
lously under the spell. 'If we had actors like 
you,' he told Garrick next day, ' our scenes would 
not be so diffuse j we should let their silence 



90 Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 

speak, and it would say more than our verses.' 
The image of Macbeth, he declared, would be 
for him ' the intellectual model of theatrical de- 
clamation at its highest point of energy and 
truth '; and he seems to imply that he should 
utilise his memories for a study of ' Declamation ' 
in the ' Encyclopedic.' But the intention must 
have faded with the impression, for the article 
contains no mention of Garrick, 

Lapses of this sort are not unusual in light and 
mercurial natures; and even Garrick himself has 
been accused of forgetting some of his former 
French associates of fourteen years earlier. C0II6, 
in particular, bitterly resented what he regarded as 
the difference between the ' bon enfant' of 1751 
and the pampered favourite of the philosophes 
whom he met again in 1765. But this complaint, 
as M. Hedgcock points out, is an isolated one, 
and there are numerous instances to prove that 
Garrick by no means neglected his French 
friends. He celebrated the success of his former 
prognostications respecting Mile. Clairon with an 
engraving after a drawing by Gravelot entitled 
' La Prophetic Accomplie,' where Melpomene is 
represented crowning the actress, and to which 
is appended a quatrain by himself: 



Garrick^s ' Grand Tour' 91 

J'ai predit que Clairon illustrerait la scene, 

Et mon espoir n'a point ^t^ d^9Uj 
Elle a couronne Melpomene, 

Melpomene lui rend ce qu'elle en a re^u. 

If it be replied, that Clairon was a far more im- 
portant figure than the author of ' La V^rit^ 
dans le Vin,' ' who was diverted with everything, 
and laughed at nothing;' it may be added that 
Garrick certainly did not forget Monnet. When 
Monnet publishes a book, Garrick gets Becket to 
take a hundred copies; when Monnet has losses, 
Garrick offers him his purse; when he comes to 
London, Garrick places both the Thames villa 
and the Southampton Street house at Monnet's 
disposal, carries him to Bath, and sends him, 
jubilant, on his way. Ingratitude should be made 
of sterner stuff"; and probably Garrick did not 
greatly care for C0II6, who, moreover, grew with 
age intolerably cross-grained. His correspondence 
with Monnet ceased only with life. Garrick 
died on 20th January, 1779; and Monnet's last 
letter in the Forster collection is dated 4th Dec- 
ember, 1778. It refers to the then recent deaths 
of Voltaire and Rousseau — of the comedian 
Bellecour and the tragedian Le Kain. * We 
learn,' says the same letter, *by our public 
prints that one of your compatriots has put an 



92 Garrick's ' Grand Tour^ 

end to the Vicomte Du Barry with a pistol shot. 
If the race of the last had been exterminated ten 
years ago, France would be better, and Louis XV 
would be still alive.' But that surely was not a 
consummation to be wished ! 

Garrick returned to England in April 1765, 
and never revisited France. In the closing 
chapter M. Hedgcock devotes some pages to 
the actor's foreign correspondence, much of 
which is most interesting. D'Holbach writes of 
Walpole's sham letter from Frederick the Great 
to Voltaire, and of Sedaine's recent ' Philosophe 
sans le Savoir'; Chastellux expatiates on the 
beauty of Hampton and its weeping willow; 
Beaumarchais acknowledges hints for the ' Barber 
of Seville,' and Suard and de la Place deal with 
themes theatrical and literary. But, for the 
present, our limits are reached. M. Hedgcock, 
referring to Garrick's protracted stay in Paris, 
endeavours to account for his extraordinary popu- 
larity — a popularity which no English contem- 
porary, Hume and Sterne not excepted, had 
enjoyed in like measure, and of which the echoes 
and memories survived long after his leaving the 
country. That Garrick possessed many delightful 
social qualities specially grateful to Frenchmen — 
'II ^tait fait pour vivre parmi nous,' they were 



Garrick's ' Grand Tour ' 93 

accustomed to say — is something: that, in a 
mimetic nation he was a superlative master of 
what Scott calls * gestic art,' is something more. 
But the main reason is probably that here sug- 
gested. He represented at its highest the school 
of natural acting which the influence of the 
English stage and the English novel was gradually 
substituting on French boards for the hide-bound 
formalities of the old theatre classique. He stood 
for truth against tradition — for the emancipating 
andinnovating drame serieuxof Diderot as opposed 
to the rigid and retrograde tragedie of Voltaire; 
and in these respects he supplied an object lesson 
at once opportune and overpowering. There 
may have been — nay, there cannot fail to have 
been — other contributing causes for his success ; 
but, in that success, this at any rate must have 
played a considerable part. 



LOUTHERBOURG. R.A. 

ON the left bank of the Thames at Ham- 
mersmith, about halfway between Chis- 
wick Church and the north end of Hammer- 
smith Bridge, stand some dozen old-fashioned 
houses, turning their backs to the river, and 
known as Hammersmith Terrace. According to 
Faulkner, they were built ' about the year 1770,' 
but they were undoubtedly inhabited in the last 
quarter of the eighteenth century; and instead 
of being crowded around, as at present, by 
structures of all sorts, must, at that date, have 
looked uninterruptedly over open fields or market- 
gardens towards the high road from Brentford to 
Kensington. To the indifferent spectator they 
say nothing; but with a little goodwill, it is not 
difficult to detect in them a certain air of faded 
distinction which seems to shrink vaguely from 
vulgar encroachment. Moreover, the neighbour- 
hood is not without its associations. Hard by, in 
the Upper Mall, once dwelt Catherine of Bra- 
ganza, until she quitted this country for Portugal, 
to find her final resting place at Belem; farther 
94 




LOUTHERBOURG 
(FROM THE PORTRAIT BY GAINSBOROUGH IN THE DULWICH GALLERY) 



Loutherbourg, R.A. 95 

away, in Chiswick Churchyard, Hogarth lies 
buried. On one side are the 'new Buildings' 
(Mawson's Row) in which Pope translated the 
' Iliad ' ; on the other is the Doves Tavern, 
where (or in the adjoining cottage once forming 
part of it) Thomson, according to a time-honoured 
tradition, worked upon his 'Winter.' The old 
Terrace, too, has its personal and particular 
memories. At No. 5 was the residence of that 
whilom idol of Sadler's Wells and Covent Garden, 
Mrs. Mountain; at No. 15 (the 'westernmost 
house ') lived the biographer of Garrick, Arthur 
Murphy, the ' Mur.' of Dr. Johnson's compressed 
code of endearment; and at Nos. 7 and 8, for 
more than a quarter of a century, the artist and 
enthusiast, Philip de Loutherbourg. With this 
last we are here immediately concerned. Nothing 
very precise is known about him; and it is pro- 
bable that he must always be more of a name than 
a person. Yet, in the absence of readily ac- 
cessible information, he has certainly been too 
unceremoniously dismissed. In religion, he has 
been described as a ' charlatan ' ; in art, he has 
been bracketed with Zuccarelli as an 'artificial 
painter of so-called landscape.' Both of these 
characterizations do him demonstrable injustice. 
Philip James de Loutherbourg, or Louther- 



96 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

bourgh, sometimes called the Younger, was long 
supposed to have been born at Strasburg. But 
that ' Old Mortality ' of letters, the indefatigable 
M. Jal, ascertained definitely that his real place 
of nativity w^as Fulda in Hesse-Nassau. Here, 
on 31st October, 1740, he entered the w^orld. 
His father, a Pole of noble extraction, was a 
miniaturist. He was court-painter at Darmstadt, 
and intended his son to become an engineer. 
The boy's mother (born Catherine Barbe Heitz) 
desired, on the contrary, to make him a Lutheran 
pastor, to which end he was educated at the 
College of Strasburg. But his personal bent was 
to art; and, after some preliminary tuition from 
his father and the elder Tischbein, he came to 
Paris in his teens to study under Carle Vanloo, 
from whose atelier he passed to that of the battle- 
painter Francois Casanova, a clever but indolent 
and erratic younger brother of the notorious 
Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, some of whose 
more reputable adventures are woven into the 
pages of Thackeray's ' Barry Lyndon,' With 
Casanova, Loutherbourg remained several years, 
since, from a remark of Diderot, who apparently 
knew him personally, he must have been domi- 
ciled with his master as early as 1758 or 1759. 
So rapid was his progress that (again according to 



Loutherbourg, R,A. 97 

Diderot) he was soon qualified to render sub- 
stantial aid to Casanova by finishing up his 
pictures, a task he performed to such good pur- 
pose, that when, about 1762, his pupilage came 
to an end, the absence of his handiwork from 
Casanova's canvases was unmistakable. Later, in 
1763, Casanova, becoming an Academician, ex- 
hibited his reception-piece, a' Combat of Cavalry '; 
and Loutherbourg, then not more than two and 
twenty, made his debut with a large number of 
contributions, four of which, the ' Hours of the 
Day,' he afterwards engraved, and it is notable, 
looking to his latest performances, that there are 
ships in all of them. Unfortunately, Diderot, in 
his ' Salon ' of 1763, confines himself to rhapso- 
dizing over one only of Loutherbourg's perform- 
ances, a * forest scene,' which he does not name 
more explicitly. But his commendations of this 
have all the Diderot exuberance. He extols the 
breadth, the harmony, the excellent animal-paint- 
ing of this youthful prodigy, who, at a bound, had 
raised himself to the level of Nicolas Berchem; 
and, it was whispered, surpassed his preceptor, 
Casanova, in his own special field. For one of 
Loutherbourg's exhibits — hung craftily between 
two restful landscapes — was a most spirited little 
battle-piece, signed largely ' Loutherbourg ' on 

H 



98 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

the frame — *as if (writes Diderot) the artist had 
said to all the world : " Gentlemen, recall those 
efforts of Casanova which so much astonished you 
two years ago;^ look closely at this, and decide 
to whom belongs the credit of the others ! " ' 2 

Before the next exhibition had come round, 
Loutherbourg married. Beyond the facts that the 
marriage took place on loth January 1764; that 
the name of the lady, probably an Alsatian, was 
Barbe Burlat; that she was a widow of five-and- 
twenty, and that, in due time, she bore him six 
children, we know nothing with certainty. Dide- 
rot, indeed, speaks of Mme. Loutherbourg as a 
*compagne charmante,' but this is a mere banality. 
It is clear, however, that her husband was indus- 
trious; that he wrought rapidly, and found will- 
ing purchasers. He sent a number of paintings to 
the exhibition of 1765, 'many of which,' says 
his critic, 'were excellent, and none without 
some merit.' It is significant that the piece least 
commended, a ' Rendez-vous de Chasse ' of the 
Prince de Cond6 in the Forest of Chantilly, was 

* At this date, the exhibitions of the French Academy 
were biennial. 

* Assezat's * CEuvres de Diderot,' x, 200. In his later 
* Salons,' Diderot qualified this opinion, and gave greater 
praise to Casanova. 



Loutherbourg, R.A. 99 

a commission. In Diderot's words, * the site and 
the subject were prescribed, and the Muse of the 
painter imprisoned.' In August 1767, Louther- 
bourg, although under age, was made an Acade- 
mician, his diploma-work being a ' Combat sur 
Terre.' Battles, sea-pieces and storms, landscapes, 
and drawings made up the remainder of his con- 
tributions, eighteen in all. Diderot is still lauda- 
tory, but he notes one characteristic, which might 
be anticipated by those who have already re- 
marked the painter's fertility. Loutherbourg 
works too much in the studio. Exceptional as 
his talent is, ' although he has seen much of 
Nature, it is not " chez elle"; it is in visits to 
Berchem, Wouverman, and Joseph Vernet.' The 
same criticism recurs in the * Salon ' of 1 769, where 
it is also implied that prolific production is 
bringing about its ordinary results, monotony and 
repetition; and that the semblance of vigour is 
dearly bought by over-emphasis, in which con- 
nection a partiality for too-green fields and too- 
red sunsets is becoming pronounced. Of this 
tendency, noticed later by Horace Walpole and 
the remorseless ' Peter Pindar,' Diderot says 
eleewhere: 'There is one of these pictures by 
Loutherbourg where the sun is so fervid, so hot 
on the horizon, that it is more like a conflagra- 



lOO Loutherooufg, R.A. 

tion than a sunset, and one is tempted to cry to 
its sitting shepherdess: " Run, if you don't want 
to be burned."' This comes from the 'Salon 'of 
1 77 1. In commending a painting in the previous 
exhibition, Diderot had also reverted to the need 
of out-door study, ending his praise with a regret- 
ful : ' Ah ! si jamais cet artiste voyage et qu'il se 
determine a voir la nature ! ' 

Diderot's utterance belongs to 1769, and those 
who have written of Loutherbourg concur in 
saying that he did travel — in Switzerland, Ger- 
many, Italy. Whether this took place subsequent 
to, and in consequence of, his critic's counsel 
must be matter of conjecture; and after 1771 
Diderot never again had the opportunity of sit- 
ting in judgement upon his work. For from that 
year Loutherbourg belongs to England, whither 
he came as a man of thirty, ' uniquement pour 
son plaisir,' says one account, and according to 
another, ' dans I'esperance d'y trouver de I'occupa- 
tion, etd'y remplirses poches de guin6es,'^ which 
is probably nearer the mark. In this country, 
with occasional visits to the Continent, he con- 
tinued to reside, a naturalized subject, until his 
death, forty years afterwards. He lodged first in 
Great Marlborough Street, having for companion 
^ Mariette, ' Abecedaiio.' 



Loutkerbourg, R.A. lOi 

a French enameller named Pascet who had ac- 
companied him to London; and in 1772, he sent 
several contributions from this address to the 
Royal Academy. Over and above his artistic 
gifts, he had considerable mechanical aptitude; 
and already in France his inventive faculty had 
been exercised in the development of pictorial 
effects and stage appliances. He had devised cun- 
ning expedients for simulating sunlight and star- 
light, and the appearance of running vi^ater. It 
was natural that, in England, he should seek to 
open relations with the enterprising manager of 
Drury Lane, who was also keenly interested in 
improving theatrical decoration ; and for this pur- 
pose he had come provided with an introduction 
from Garrick's French friend, Jean Monnet of 
the Opera Comique,^ who styles him ' un de nos 
plus grands peintres.' In the Garrick Corre- 
spondence at South Kensington there are two 
unpublished documents which show the progress 
of the intercourse thus initiated. Neither of the 
papers is dated ; and both suggest that the painter, 
as regards style, was more German than French. 

* Hedgcock's ' David Garrick et ses Amis Fran9ais,' 
I9ii,p. 223 «. Angelo says (' Reminiscences,' 1830, i, 265; 
ii, 326) that his father introduced Loutherbourg to Gar- 
rick 5 but the statements are not necessarily inconsistent. 



I02 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

From what is apparently the earlier, it must be 
inferred that Loutherbourg had made to Garrick 
certain suggestions which Garrick had requested 
him to put into writing. He is ready, he says, 
with a proposition, which should profit them 
both, for redecorating Drury Lane. It will of 
necessity involve fresh methods of lighting and 
scene-shifting, and new machinery. For all this 
he will prepare a working model to guide the 
artists, artificers and machinists concerned. He 
will design and colour all the costumes, and co- 
operate with the composer and 'maitre-de-ballets' 
in such a way as to ensure harmony of action. 
He will also provide a trustworthy scene-painter 
to execute his designs, which, if need be, he will 
personally retouch.' Garrick is to pay all ex- 
penses; and he himself, for his three months 
labour and trouble, is to have a modest honorarium 
of ^300. 

His scheme, it will be seen, was very general 
in terms; and, without knowledge of the writer's 

' This is confirmed by Angelo, who says: 'It was 
conditioned that De Loutherbourg should do nothing 
more than design the scenes, which were painted from his 
small, coloured sketches under his superintendence, by the 
scene-painters already on the theatrical establishment. I 
have often seen him at his easel composing these pictorial 
prototypes' ('Reminiscences,' 1830, i, 16). 



Loutherbourg, R.A. 103 

previous communications to Garrick, not par- 
ticularly easy to comprehend. But, from its refer- 
ence to a specific though otherwise unspecified 
' piece,' it is not unreasonable to connect it with 
the * Christmas Tale,' an indifferent ' dramatic 
entertainment ' based on Charles Favart's ' F6e 
Urg61e,' which Garrick ' by His Majesty's Com- 
mand,' brought out at Drury Lane on Mon- 
day, 27th December 1773, with 'new Scenes, 
Dresses, Music, Machinery, and Decorations.' 
Although its purpose was ' to promote Virtue,' it 
had little literary merit ; and if Garrick were 
its author, proved, as Walpole said, how poor 
a figure a great actor may make as a writer.^ 
The music was by Dibdin ; the scenery ' in- 
vented by Mr. De Loutherbourg.' As this in- 
volved a thunderstorm, a palace in flames, a 
'richly illuminated cloud,' a magnificent seraglio, 
a rising sun and a rising moon, it is obvious that 
the artist must have been thoroughly at home; 
and it may be concluded that his efforts gave 
novelty and vogue to what otherwise would prob- 
ably have been a very tame performance. Some- 

• Transcripts of" the < Christmas Tale,' and its pre- 
decessor, 'Cymon' (1767), with passages in Garrick's 
handwriting, recently (19 12) figured in a Catalogue of 
Mr. Bertram Dobell of Charing Cross Road. 



I04 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

thing, however, must have been due to the act- 
ing of Weston, the inimitable ' Scrub ' of the 

* Beaux' Stratagem,' v^^ho, as 'squire to the good 
magician, Bonoro, had an excellent Low Comedy 
character, which ' kept the audience in a Horse 
Laugh all the Time he was on the Stage'; and 
the published play (1774) has an etching of him 
by Loutherbourg, who also contributed Weston's 
portrait to the Pall Mall Exhibition of the same 
year. But, for our purpose, the essential outcome 
of 'A Christmas Tale' was that Loutherbourg 
made further overtures to Garrick. 

These are embodied in a second and more 
lengthy document at South Kensington, headed 

* Propositions de Mr. Philippe Jacque de Louther- 
bourg Peintre du Roy de france et membre de 
Son Accademie Royalle de Peinture & Sculpture 
aux Messieurs Garrick & L[acy] propridtaires du 
Spectacle de Drury lane a Londres.' They are 
decidedly verbose, and, in any case, too detailed 
for more than a summary. Beginning with a 
reference to the proof of the writer's ability 
which he has already given (to wit, in the 

* Christmas Tale'), he goes on to a particular ac- 
count of what he is further disposed to do for 
Drury Lane — and Drury Lane exclusively — in 
order to place it in the first rank as regards the 



Loutkerbourg, R.A. 105 

congruity of its costumes and appointments with 
the subjects of its pieces. He desires to take 
entire charge of the decorations, including the 
inventing, h'ghting and working of them. He 
will, when necessary, design suitable dresses; will 
provide, every winter, new effects for a piece to 
be concerted beforehand with the managers; and 
will, moreover, make sure that all arrangements 
for the winter season are ready betimes. As re- 
gards what the late Anthony Trollope used to 
call the ' interesting financial details,' he is pre- 
pared, for all this, to accept an annual payment, in 
monthly instalments, of six hundred guineas, 
being no more, his correspondents are given to 
understand, than Panini's pupil Servandoni had 
received at the Opera-house in the Haymarket 
for the winter season alone. 

On this last point of payment, there must 
have been compromise, for it is admitted that his 
salary was settled at five hundred a year, a larger 
sum than Garrick had ever paid before. That 
the new superintendent of scenery and machinery 
performed his duties efficiently, there can be little 
doubt. He made many valuable alterations in 
the illumination of the stage, then very inade- 
quate, for even sunk footlights, with their ' in- 
effectual fires,' were of comparatively recent 



io6 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

date;^ and by employing coloured silks in the 
flies, which turned on a pivot, and behind which 
lights were placed, he managed to obtain the 
most wonderful transitions. He got rid of the old 
stationary background; and by a skilful use of 
perspective contrived to give a better idea of 
distance. He is also credited with originating the 

* set-scene' or built-up picture — though perhaps 

* originating' should rather be developing' or 
' elaborating.' He strove to end the glaring ana- 
chronisms of costume which Hogarth had ridi- 
culed in the plates to the ' Analysis'; and which, 
in tragedy, permitted Mrs. Pritchard to play 
Lady Macbeth in a hoop-petticoat, perched the 
lacquered helmet of Alexander on an elegant 
Ramillies wig, and attired Othello (blackened to 
order) in the laced red coat of King William's 
' Gentlemen of the Guard.' ^ But of these things 
the chronicle is scant and dispersed ; and we can 

^ Besant's 'London in the Eighteenth Century,' 1902, 

431- 

2 * Wine and Walnuts,' by * Ephraim Hardcastle ' 

(W. H. Pyne, the painter and etcher), 2nd ed. 1 824, i, 279. 

These irregularities must, nevertheless, have died hard, for, 

according to Mangin's 'Parlour Window,' 184.1, p. 123, 

John Kemble still fought Bosworth Field in silk stockings 

and dancing shoes, and played Lear or Macbeth in a 

Louis-Quinze nightgown of flowered satin. 



Loutherbourg, R.A. loy 

here do no more than pick out, from the public 
prints and elsewhere, a few of the pieces with 
which he seems to have been intimately concerned. 
In 1774 he helped to bolster up Burgoyne's 
mediocre * dramatic entertainment,' the ' Maid of 
the Oaks,' ^ and in the two following years lent 
effective aid both to Bickerstaffe's ' Sultan ' and 
Collier's Persian Tale of ' Selima and Azor.' In 
1776 he is also credited by the 'Morning 
Chronicle' with 'a very beautiful scene' of the 
Pantheon at Spa Fields for Colman's farce of 
'The Spleen'^ in the Prologue to which Garrick 
gave the first public intimation of his approaching 
retirement; and the late Sir Henry Irving had 

* First acted at ' The Oaks,' Epsom, on the marriage 
of Burgoyne's nephew, Lord Stanley, to Lady Betty 
Hamilton. Both Walpole and Hannah More mention 
this piece. It is *as fine as scenes can make it,' says 
Horace to Conway in Nov. 1774, 'and as dull as the 
author could not help making it.' St. Hannah is kinder. 
' The scenery is beautiful — the masquerade scene as good 
as at the Pantheon. The piece is only intended as a 
vehicle for the scenery; yet there is some wit and spirit in 
it, being written by General Burgoyne, and embellished, 
etc., by Garrick' (' Memoirs,' 1834, i, 39). Loutherbourg 
was referred to in it as 'Mr. Lanternbug' — which his 
artist friends corrupted into ' Leatherbag.' 

* Loutherbourg painted a portrait of Colman, of which 
there is a print by Cheesman. 



lo8 Loutherhourg^ R.A. 

several sketches which Loutherbourg had prepared 
for the final performances of 'Richard III.' When, 
later, Drury Lane passed to Sheridan, Louther- 
bourg for a brief period retained his office, paint- 
ing, according to Baker and Reed, who styled 
him ' the first scene painter in Europe,' an excel- 
lent representation of Cox Heath, near Maid- 
stone, for Linley's ' Camp' (1778); and for the 
'Critic' of 1779, another of Tilbury Fort, 
which procured his inclusion in the ' pufF direct' 
of that piece. ' The miraculous powers of Mr. de 
Loutherbourg's pencil are universally acknow- 
ledged,' says this panegyrist. He also contributed 
to keep alive the insipid pantomime of ' Robinson 
Crusoe J or. Harlequin Friday,' which Sheridan 
patched together for 1781. After this, it was un- 
gratefully proposed to reduce his salary by half, 
an arrangement which he indignantly refused to 
accept. His last stage-work seems to have been 
in connection with O'KeefFe's ' Omai ; or, A 
Trip round the World,' produced at Covent 
Garden in 1785, the decorations of which are 
directly attributed to him by the authors of the 
'Biographia Dramatica.' Omai, or Omiah, who 
gives his name to the piece, was an Otaheitan, 
brought ten years earlier from the Society 
Islands, on Cook's second voyage, by Fanny 



Loutkerbourg, R.A. 109 

Burney's brother James ; and, in designing ap- 
propriate costumes, Loutherbourg had the assist- 
ance of sketches made by John Webber, the 
landscape painter, and draughtsman of the expedi- 
tion. He got ;^I00 for his services, which must 
have afforded him ample opportunity for volcanoes 
and other congenial phenomena. The perform- 
ance closed with an apotheosis of the great cir- 
cumnavigator, which was afterwards engraved. 
' Omai ' ran forty nights; and, we are told, was 
frequently 'commanded by Their Majesties.' 

But this is to anticipate. In 1774 Louther- 
bourg had moved to 45, Great Titchfield Street, 
Oxford Market, where one of his later neigh- 
bours was to be Richard Wilson, another land- 
scapist whose works lay under the imputation of 
being ' screeny,' that is, ' stagey,' in character. 
During the period of Loutherbourg's connection 
with Garrick he had gone on exhibiting annually 
at the Royal Academy in his former manner — 
landscapes with cattle, mornings, evenings, ban- 
ditti, and the like. 'We have a Swede [German],' 
says Walpole in April 1775, 'one Loutherbourg, 
who would paint landscape and cattle excellently 
if he did not in every picture indulge some one 
colour inordinately.' ^ This, as the reader will 

1 Wright, in his life of Wilson (1824), while speaking 



no Loutherbourg, R.A. 

observe, had been one of the objections of 
Diderot; and it was heavily underlined a little 
later by 'Peter Pindar ' in his ' Odes to the Royal 
Academicians" of 1782: 

And, Loutherbourg, when Heav'n so wills, 

To make brass skies and golden hills. 
With marble bullocks in glass pastures grazing, 

Thy reputation too will rise, 

And people, gaping with surprise, 
Cry • Monsieur Loutherbourgh is most amazing ! ' 

He diversified his contributions by an occasional 
portrait, one of which was of course that popular 
impersonation, ' Roscius ' as ' Richard III.' His 
only military compositions were two representing 
a review and manoeuvres at Warley Camp in 
1778. (Lovers of Boswell may be reminded that 
Dr. Johnson came to Warley in this very year, 
on a visit to Bennet Langton, then doing duty 
as an officer of the Lincolnshire Militia, on which 
occasion the great man made minute inquisition 
into the weight of musket balls; and was highly 

of Loutherbourg as scarcely ever surpassed in execution, 
refers to the ' very glaring and oftentimes unharmonlous 
tints' his pictures displayed, as 'unaccountable in an 
artist of so much practice and experience, and who, in 
many respects, was certainly a delightful painter' (p. 153). 



Loutherbourg, R.A. iii 

impressed by the dexterity with which the Cor- 
poral Trim of the period handled his 'Brown 
Bess.') It may have been these last productions 
which, in 1780, procured for Loutherbourg his 
associateship; and in 178 1, when he exhibited 
nothing, the further distinction of R.A. At this 
date his leisure must have been employed in pro- 
jecting and perfecting that curious product of his 
combined ingenuities as scene-painter and ma- 
chinist, the 'EiDOPHUsiKON; or, Various Imita- 
tions of Natural Phenomena, represented by 
Moving Pictures.' 

From some of the accounts of this long-vanished 
exhibition, it might easily be concluded that it 
was little more than an elaboration of those pic- 
torial ' Waterworks ' at Vauxhall which Gold- 
smith's pawnbroker's widow did not see, when, 
under the experienced guidance of Mr. and Mrs. 
Tibbs, she visited the Surrey gardens for that 
special purpose. But this is to rate Louther- 
bourg's performance far too low. It was a really 
clever and novel attempt by an artist of very 
varied equipment to represent landscape and 
locality as subjected to all the changes of light 
and darkness, time and season, heat and cold. 
Its first home, in 178 1-2, was a large house in 
Lisle Street, fronting Leicester Street, Leicester 



112 Loutkerbourgy R.A. 

Square. But in the early months of 1786, when 
described by Pyne,^ it was located in Old Exeter 
'Change, Strand, where the body of John Gay 
had once lain in state. Here it occupied an upper 
floor previously used for Dibdin and Stoppelaer's 
puppet Patagonian Theatre and afterwards given 
over to those wild beasts whose hungry roarings, 
in Leigh Hunt's day, terrified the horses in the 
Strand. During Loutherbourg's tenancy, the 
place was arranged by Bateman as a tiny theatre, 
with a stage about six feet wide and eight feet 
deep. But Pyne, as a professing eye-witness, 
may now be quoted ; 

'The opening subject of the Eidophusikon 
represented the view from the summit of One- 
Tree Hill, in Greenwich Park, looking up the 
Thames to the metropolis; on one side, con- 
spicuous upon its picturesque eminence, stood 
Flamsteed House [the Observatory] ; and below, 
on the right, the grand mass of building, Green- 
wich Hospital, with its imposing cupolas, cut out 
of pasteboard, and painted with architectural cor- 
rectness. The large groups of trees formed 
another division, behind which were the towns 
of Greenwich and Deptford, with the shore on 
each side stretching to the metropolis, which was 
' ' Wine and Walnuts,' 2nd ed. 1824, i, ch. xxl. 



Loutherhourg^ R.A . 113 

seen in its vast extent from Chelsea to Poplar. 
Behind were the hills of Hampstead, Highgate, 
and Harrow; and the intermediate space was 
occupied by the flat stage, as the pool or port of 
London, crowded with shipping, each mass of 
which being cut out in pasteboard, and receding 
in size by the perspective of their distance. The 
heathy appearance of the foreground w^as con- 
structed of cork, broken into the rugged and 
picturesque form of a sand-pit ^ covered w^ith 
minute mosses and lichens, producing a capti- 
vating effect, amounting indeed to reality. 

' This scene, on the rising of the curtain, was 
enveloped in that mysterious light which is the 
precursor of day-break, so true to nature, that the 
imagination of the spectator sniffed the sweet 
breath of morn. A faint light appeared along the 
horizon ; the scene assumed a vapourish tint of 
grey; presently a gleam of saffron, changing to 
the pure varieties that tinge the fleecy clouds 
that pass away in morning mist; the picture 
brightened by degrees; the sun appeared, gilding 
the tops of the trees and the projections of the 
lofty buildings, and burnishing the vanes on the 
cupolas; when the whole scene burst upon the 

* One of Loutherbourg's exhibits of 1782 was ' A Sand- 
Pit.' 



1 14 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

eye in the gorgeous splendour of a beauteous 
day.' 

At this time gas was not in use, and Louther- 
bourg's illuminating power was restricted to a 
brilliant row of the then newly introduced Ar- 
gand lamps, which lighted the stage from above. It 
would take too long to describe the ingenious con- 
trivances by which the artist obtained his various 
effects : the stained glass that altered the colour- 
ing of his scene; the expedients for imitating 
thunder and lightning, hail and rain, the changes 
of cloud-form, the tumbling of waves, the sound 
of signal-guns at sea. One of his most striking 
tableaux reproduced the loss, with all its appal- 
ling circumstance, off the coast of Dorset, on 
the 6th January 1786, of the * Halsewell' East 
Indiaman,^ so feelingly sung in ' Lewesdon Hill ' 
by Rogers's Miltonic friend, William Crowe; 
and the representation was realistic enough to 
satisfy even the most exacting nautical critics. 
The finale travelled beyond sublunary judgment, 
for it exhibited ' the region of the fallen angels, 
with Satan arraying his troops on the banks of 

^ This 'late dreadful Catastrophe,' accoi-ding to the 
advertisements in the newspapers of the day, was one of 
the reasons for reviving the Eidophusikon at the begin- 
ning of 1786. 



Loutkerbourg, R.A . 115 

the Fiery Lake,' and also the uprising of that 
Palace of Pandemonium described in the first 
book of ' Paradise Lost ' : 

Anon out of the earth a Fabrick huge 
Rose like an Exhalation, with the sound 
Of Dulcet Symphonies and voices sweet, 
Built like a Temple, where Pilasters round 
Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid 
With Golden Architrave; nor did there want 
Cornice or Freeze, with bossy Sculptures grav'n, 
The roof was fretted gold. 

Here, from Pyne, is the pictorial materializa- 
tion of the lines; and it will be seen that the 
subject elicited all Loutherbourg's faculty for lurid 
effects : ' In the foreground of a vista, stretching 
an immeasurable length between mountains, 
ignited from their bases to their lofty summits, 
with many coloured flame, a chaotic mass rose in 
dark majesty, which gradually assumed form until 
it stood, the interior of a vast temple of gorgeous 
architecture, bright as molten brass, seemingly 
composed of unconsuming and unquenchable fire. 
In this tremendous scene, the effect of coloured 
glasses before the lamps was fully displayed ; 
which, being hidden from the audience, threw 
their whole influence upon the scene, as it rapidly 
changed, now to a sulphurous blue, then to a 



ii6 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

lurid red, and then again to a pale vivid light, 
and ultimately to a mysterious combination of 
the glasses, such as a bright furnace exhibits, in 
fusing various metals.' 

During the last phases of this manifestation, we 
are told, resounding peals of thunder added a 
preternatural horror, heightened by ' a variety of 
groans, that struck the imagination as issuing 
from infernal spirits.' For those accustomed to 
the cinematograph and the elaborate combinations 
of modern stage machinery, such an exhibition 
may well seem primitive and rudimentary; but 
it was not so to Loutherbourg's public; and a 
convincing proof of the fidelity of the above de- 
scription lies in the fact that the most devoted 
admirers of the Eidophusikon were its inventor's 
most distinguished brethren of the brush. Rey- 
nolds praised it warmly, and recommended all 
his friends to take their daughters to see it ; while 
Gainsborough, who for some time spent his even- 
ings there, could talk of nothing else.^ Between 

' He even made a toy Eidophusikon or peep-show box 
for himself, which was shown at the Grosvenor Gallery 
in 1885. It then belonged to Mr. G. W. Reid, its former 
possessor having been Dr. Monro. The slides were painted 
on glass, were lighted from behind, and looked at through 
a magnifier (' Somerset House Gazette,' 1824,1!, pp. 8, u). 



Loutherbourg, R.A. 117 

the scenes, it should be added, there was, at the 
outset, music and singing, a feature of the enter- 
tainment which led to Loutherbourg's being 
summoned for purveying unlicensed harmony. 
But the sitting justices showed their sense of the 
triviality of the charge by forthwith granting the 
required permit without penalty, and for a space 
the show continued to prosper. Like most other 
things, however, it had its day; and when at last 
it was disposed of by its projector, the door- 
money had fallen so low as to be insufficient to 
cover the lighting expenses.^ 

By 1783 Loutherbourg had moved from 
Titchfield Street to Prince's Street, Hammer- 
smith ; and two years later he was in residence 
at Hammersmith Terrace. At this date he 
seems to have temporarily abandoned the old 
studio-pictures on the model of Berchem and 
Wouverman, and devoted his attention to the 
natural scenery of his adopted crountry. 'No 
English landscape painter,' he is reported to have 
said, 'needed foreign travel to collect grand 
prototypes for his study.' His own contributions 
to the Academy for the next few years prove 
that he paid repeated visits to the Lakes, to York- 

^ See, for further details, Appendix B (Exhibitions of 
the Eidophusikon). 



ii8 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

shire, Derbyshire ^ and Wales. He must also 
have visited Switzerland, for his solitary exhibit 
in 1788 was a view of the Grand Cataract of the 
Rhine at Schaffhausen. In 1789 he sent nothing; 
and with this defection is connected a curious 
and rather unexpected episode in his career. 
After settling down permanently at Hammer- 
smith, his restless energies seem to have involved 
him in that cloud of occultism which brooded 
heavily over revolutionary Europe in the last 
quarter of the eighteenth century. He grew 
interested in Mesmer's Animal Magnetism; and 
became a pupil of the Dr. de Mainauduc whose 
* demoniacal mummery ' fluttered the pious ap- 
prehensions of Hannah More. He is also said to 
have travelled in Switzerland with the Sicilian 
impostor and mountebank, Giuseppe Balsamo, 
otherwise Cagliostro, whom he may have met in 
Strasburg in 1783, where His Quackship was 
dosing, among others. Gibbon's friend Deyver- 
dun.^ Or he may have made his acquaintance 

^ He had already visited Derbyshire previous to 1779, 
when he utilized his experiences for the Drury Lane panto- 
mime ' The Wonders of Derbyshire. 

* ' On ne salt qui il est, d'ou il est, d'ou il tire son argent; 
il exerce gratis ses talens pour la medicine ; il a fait des cures 
admirablesj mais c'est d'ailleurs le compose le plus etrange. 



Loutherbourg, R.A . 119 

on one of his visits to England — notably that 
final sojourn when Cagliostro, after the Neck- 
lace Scandal, resided here in 1786-7, leaving 
his wife, on his departure, in the temporary 
charge of the Loutherbourgs. In any case, it 
should have been Cagliostro who set Louther- 
bourg on the search for the philosopher's stone, 
an enterprise which he pursued assiduously until 
an exasperated female relative, not otherwise 
identified, ruthlessly wrecked his crucibles — of 
course at the critical moment of projection. Later 
he persuaded himself that he possessed super- 
natural healing powers. A room in his house was 
set apart for patients, and special days were ad- 
vertised for their attendance. ' Loutherbourg, the 
painter,' says Horace Walpole to Lady Ossory in 
July 1789, 'is turned an inspired physician, and 
has three thousand patients. His sovereign pan- 
acea is barley-water. I believe it is as efficacious 
as mesmerism.' A more material testimony to 
Loutherbourg's doings is supplied by a nine-page 
quarto pamphlet on the subject, written by one 
Mary Pratt, of No. 41, Portland Street, Maryle- 
bone, described as a * lady of deep and original 

J'ai cesse de prendre ses remedes qui m'echaufFaient — 
I'homme d'ailleurs me gatoit le medecin.' (' Deyverdun to 
Gibbon,' [June 1783].) 



I20 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

piety.' It was published in 1789; is dedicated to 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, and is entitled, 
' A List of a few Cures performed by Mr. and 
Mrs. De lyoutherbourg, of Hammersmith Ter- 
race, without Medicine.' Mrs. De Louther- 
bourg (a second wife),^ participated, as will be 
seen, in her husband's gift, and, for a time, 
patients, *deaf, dumb, lame, halt, and blind,' 
crowded to the free ministrations of the con- 
sulting room, while, in the public prints, 'Amicus' 
and ' Fame ' hotly discussed the validity of the 
results. Then came the inevitable reaction. 
Something went wrong; and the fickle mob pro- 
ceeded to smash the windows of the hapless 
philanthropists, who, for a season, had to retire 
' into the country,' and the ' Public Advertiser ' 
announced that ' the Magnetising Doctor of 
Hammersmith had given over practice.' 

After this, we hear no more of Loutherbourg's 
' wonder-working,' though it is not unlikely that 
he continued to dabble in medicine, since, from 
a letter we have seen, even as late as 1803, he 
was still preoccupied with diet-drinks. And he 
must always have been mixed up with visionaries 
of some sort. One of his associates, later a resid- 

^ Angelo says she was a beautiful widow named Smith 
('Reminiscences,' 1830, ii, 330). 



Loutherbourg, R.A. 121 

ent of Chiswick, was the engraver-enthusiast, 
William Sharp, a Swedenborgian, and the re- 
publican friend of Tom Paine and Home Tooke. 
Sharp was also a devotee of the self-styled 
' Prince of the Hebrews ' and ' prophet,' Rich- 
ard Brothers, whose portrait he engraved, append- 
ing to it a signed inscription expressing full belief 
in his mission and powers. Brothers, in 1 795, went 
so far as to predict the death of George the Third, 
an unfortunate vaticination which, coupled with 
his personal pretensions to the succession, led to 
his incarceration as a treasonable lunatic. It is 
sometimes alleged that his influence brought about 
the disclosure of the painter's alleged curative 
gift. But Brothers, a retired lieutenant in the 
navy, who had been present in 1782 at the 
famous action between Rodney and de Grasse, 
did not receive his prophetical ' call ' until a much 
later period; and the Hammersmith healing-room 
belongs demonstrably to 1789, since Mrs. Pratt's 
pamphlet is dated July in that year, and covers 
the previous six months. The whole of this part 
of Loutherbourg's biography is nevertheless ob- 
scure. Its connection with his art-life is purely 
incidental; and one turns willingly to the story 
of his pictures, pausing only to note that there is 
no reason to suppose he was insincere, a circum- 



122 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

stance which should of itself suffice to absolve 
him from any charge of charlatanry. 

For the next few years he reverted to his 
former fashion of studio-landscapes. Then, in 
1793, came the tragedy of Louis XVI, and 
France's declaration of war with England. 
Loutherbourg's eftbrts at Warley Camp were no 
doubt remembered ; and at the opening of the 
campaign he was despatched to Flanders, with 
Gillray the caricaturist, to make graphic celebra- 
tion of the anticipated exploits of that not-too- 
distinguished commander, King George's soldier 
son, the Duke of York. At what particular 
sieges Loutherbourg assisted does not appear, but 
he certainly painted the Grand Attack on Valen- 
ciennes in July, for it was engraved by Bromley. 
In the following June (1794), when Howe's suc- 
cess in the Brest waters served, to some extent, 
as a set-ofF to the land triumphs of the French at 
Tournay and elsewhere, Loutherbourg was com- 
missioned to prepare a companion canvas com- 
memorating the opening encounter of the rival 
flagships, the 'Queen Charlotte' and the ' Mon- 
tagne.' He must have executed his task with his 
usual rapidity, for in March of the next year both 
pictures were exhibited at the Historic Gallery in 
Pall Mall, James Fittler, the King's marine 



Loutherbourg, R.A. 123 

engraver, made a fine print of the 'glorious 
victory' J and the original is still to be seen in 
the Painted Hall at Greenw^ich Hospital/ to 
which, by the gift of George IV, it was trans- 
ferred from St. James's Palace. After Howe's 
engagement came Duncan's great battle off 
Camperdown with De Winter, which besides 
preventing the invasion of Ireland by the Dutch, 
provided a fresh subject for Loutherbourg's pen- 
cil. In the Print Room at the British Museum, 
carefully catalogued by Mr. Laurence Binyon, 
are a number of minutely finished studies and 
sketches for these works, particularly an album 
containing many plans of actions, views of local- 
ities, details of sword-hilt and ammunition- 
pouch, mizen-top and cat-head, flags, guns, sails, 
rigging, and a host pf artistic ' marginalia,' which 
prove how little, in his marine pieces at all 
events, the painter relied on his imagination for 
his facts. 

His remaining story may be abridged. He 

^ In the Painted Hall is another of Loutherbourg's 
efforts, ' The Defeat of the Spanish Armada,' which was 
presented to the Hospital by Lord Farnborough, and has 
been called ' one of the finest sea-fights ever realized on 
canvas.' This, like the Stratton ' Great Fire of London,' 
was doubtless executed for Bowyer's ' History of England.' 
' The Attack on Valenciennes' is in the Royal collection. 



124 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

painted the ' Battle of the Nile' (1798), familiar 
in Fittler's engraving. He continued to exhibit 
at the Royal Academy, somewhat irregularly, 
until his death, two of his most important efforts 
being the 'Landing of the British Troops at 
Aboukir Bay,' and the 'Battle of Alexandria,' 
both of which events belong to March 1801, al- 
though the pictures were not shown until later. 
In 1 80 1 and 1805 were issued two large volumes 
of 'Romantic and Picturesque Scenery in Eng- 
land and Wales,' containing a series of coloured 
plates after his paintings. To Macklin's great 
seven-volume Bible, besides many head and tail- 
pieces, he contributed the ' Universal Deluge ' 
and the ' Destruction of the Assyrian Host,' the 
former of which is by many regarded as his 
chef-d'oeuvre. He was also employed as an illus- 
trator on Bowyer's ' History of England,' Bell's 
* British Theatre,' and other publications. Ex- 
amples of his work are not common ; but besides 
those at Greenwich Hospital there are specimens 
in the National Gallery, the Tate Gallery, the 
Glasgow Gallery, andat South Kensington, Vienna, 
and Bordeaux. He resided to the last in his house 
at Hammersmith, where he was well known and 
popular; and where he was occasionally visited 
by George III. Gainsborough painted his per- 



Loutherbotirg^ R.A. 125 

trait, which, with two of his landscapes, is at 
Dulwich.^ He died on nth March 1812, and 
was buried on the 25th at the north-west end of 
Chiswick Churchyard, under an unattractive 
monument by Sir John Soane, and an inordinate 
epitaph by the Rev. Dr. Christopher Lake 
Moody, which lays special stress on his ' piety ' 
and ' suavity of manners,' and closes with the 
following quatrain: 

Here, Loutherbourg, repose thy laurel'd head ; 
While art is cherished thou canst ne'er be dead: 
Salvator, Poussin, Claude, thy skill combines, 
And beauteous nature lives In thy designs. 

The registers also record the interment at 
Chiswick, in 18 13 and 1828 respectively, of 
Salome and Lucy de Loutherbourg, his sister and 
his second wife.^ 

As implied at the outset, it is difficult to make 
of Loutherbourg that picture of the man which 
is often so lightly demanded by the irresponsible 

' Sir Francis Bourgeois, R.A., the founder of the 
Dulwich Gallery, was a pupil of Loutherbourg. Another 
was De Quincey's brother. 

* These last details were contributed by Colonel Chester 
in 1 88 1 to 'Notes and Queries,' from whose indispensable 
and all-preserving pages we have derived some other 
particulars in this paper. 



126 Loutherbourg, R.A. 

critic. Besides a few early and dubious *on dits ' 
of Diderot, an anecdote or two from Angelo, and 
the final statement of Faulkner that ' he was held 
in great esteem for the uniform propriety of his 
conduct,' but little exists on which to build a 
personality. There is, of course, the healing 
episode. But concerning this, fuller information 
is desirable ; and at present the evidence is mainly 
confined to Mrs. Pratt's pamphlet, which was 
published against Loutherbourg's wishes. In 
dealing with Loutherbourg as an artist, however, 
the ground is surer, and general deductions may 
safely be drawn. Not to speak of his proficiency as 
an etcher and caricaturist, it is clear that he was a 
painter of unusual precocity, dexterity, and fer- 
tility of resource. Combined with these qualities 
was a certain constructive ingenuity which lends 
a special character to his productions ; and more- 
over, served him exceptionally in his efforts as a 
scene-painter. On the other hand, his success as a 
scene-painter, since it probably increased his 
tendency to forced contrasts and imaginative 
colouring, was unfavourable to his gifts as a land- 
scapist. Yet he could sometimes forget hot reds 
and vivid greens. From his * Picturesque Scen- 
ery ' it is plain that he could follow Nature 
closely enough when he chose to keep his eye on 



Loutkerbourg, R.A. 127 

the object ; and he possessed powers by no means 
to be despised. Had he lived twenty years later 
he might, with his mastery of technique and his 
assimilative talent, have figured in the forefront 
of the coming English landscape school. As it 
is, he was not without his influenceion Turner.^ 
And the more considerable of his great naval 
compositions are still justly regarded as extra- 
ordinary tours de force in their very adventurous 
kind. 

' It is said that Turner first went to live in the Upper 
Mall at Hammersmith in 1808 in order to be near Louther- 
bourg (Monkhouse's 'Turner,' 1879, P- ^^)- 



A FIELDING 'FIND' 

FIELDING'S autographs and letters are ad- 
mittedly few in number. 'Where,' asked 
an inquiring daily paper the other day, apropos 
of the unprecedented sale of a Fielding receipt 
and agreement for more than a thousand pounds 
— ' where is the manuscript of ' Tom Jones ' or 
of 'Amelia'? The answer is not far to seek. 
Probably neither now exists, since in Fielding's 
day authors were not so careful to preserve their 
' copy ' as Thackeray and Dickens and Trollope 
in ours. With respect to the absence of letters, 
there are two explanations, each of which is 
almost sufficient to account for their rarity. The 
bulk of Fielding's correspondence, it is under- 
stood, was destroyed early in the last century; 
and it is suggested that such of his papers as, after 
the sale of his library in February 1755 still re- 
mained in the custody of Sir John Fielding, his 
blind half-brother and successor, perished when, 
in 1780, the Bow Street house was wrecked by 
the Gordon rioters. Thus it comes about that 
not many specimens of Henry Fielding's episto- 
128 



A Fielding ' Find' 129 

lary efforts have been printed or preserved. Some 
of these are frankly formal, and consequently 
barren of interest; so that, w^ith exception of one 
to be reproduced presently, and another to his 
publisher, John Nourse of the Strand, in regard 
to the leasing of a house near the Temple which 
was to include ' one large eating Parlour ' ^ (a 
very characteristic touch !), there are practically 
no utterances in this kind which can be said to 
have any direct bearing on his biography or per- 
sonality. 

A fortunate circumstance has brought to light 
two of his latest if not his last letters, the exist- 
ence of which has hitherto been overlooked ; and, 
by the kindness of members of the Fielding 
family, transcripts of these have been courteously 
placed in our hands for publication. They relate 
to that voyage to Lisbon in search of health of 
which Fielding wrote the 'Journal' published 
posthumously in 1755; and they succeed and 
supplement the very valuable letter dating from 
the same period, already referred to. This has 
been printed in recent biographies of Fielding j 
but its close connection with the newly-discovered 

^ This must have been eighteenth-century for ' dining- 
room.'' Miss Burney speaks of the 'eating-parlour' in the 
Queen's Lodge at Windsor ('Diary,' iv (1905), 277). 
K 



1 30 A Fielding * Find ' 

documents makes it convenient to print it once 
more. Fielding, it will be remembered, left 
Ealing for Lisbon on 26th June 1754. He was 
suffering from ' a complication of disorders ' — 
asthma, jaundice, and dropsy. He had tried 
' Spot ' Ward's remedies and Bishop Berkeley's 
tar-water without permanent relief; and when 
finally, having made his will, he started for 
Portugal, he had little real hope of regaining his 
strength.^ It is needless to recapitulate the trials 
and vexations of his protracted voyage, which are 
fully detailed in the 'Journal';^ but the above- 
mentioned letter, it should be stated, was addressed 
to John Fielding Esq., at Bow Street, Covent 
Garden, when its writer, in the course of his 
travels, had reached the Isle of Wight. 

' On board the Queen of Portugal, Rich^ Veal 
at anchor on the Mother Bank, off Ryde, to the 
care of the Post Master at Portsmouth — this is 
my Date and y'' Direction. 

^"Ju/y 12 1754. 
' Dear Jack, After receiving that agreeable 
Lre from Mess'"^ Fielding and C°., we weighed 

1 His death was actually announced in one of the evening 
papers (Godden's 'Henry Fielding,' 1910, 285). 

"■ An edition, with numerous notes by the author of this 
paper, is inckided in the 'World's Classics' for 1907. 



A Fielding ' Find ' 131 

on monday morning and sailed from Deal to the 
Westward Four Days long but inconceivably 
pleasant passage brought us yesterday to an 
Anchor on the Mother Bank, on the Back of the 
Isle of Wight, where we had last Night in Safety 
the Pleasure of hearing the Winds roar over our 
Heads in as violent a Tempest as I have known, 
and where my only Consideration were the Fears 
which must possess any Friend of ours, (if there 
is happily any such) who really makes our Well- 
being the Object of his Concern especially if such 
Friend should be totally inexperienced in Sea 
Affairs. I therefore beg that on the Day you 
receive this Mrs. Daniel may know that we are 
just risen from Breakfast in Health and Spirits 
this twelfth Instant at 9 in the morning. Our 
Voyage hath proved fruitful in Adventures all 
which being to be written in the Book you must 
postpone y*" Curiosity. As the Incidents which 
fall under y*" Cognizance will possibly be con- 
signed to Oblivion, do give them to us as they 
pass. Tell y" Neighbour I am much obliged to 
him for recommending me to the care of a most 
able and experienced Seaman to whom other Cap- 
tains seem to pay such Deference that they 
attend and watch his Motions, and think them- 
selves only safe when they act under his Direction 



132 A Fielding ' Find' 

and Example. Our Ship in Truth seems to give 
Laws on the Water with as much Authority and 
Superiority as you Dispense Laws to the Public 
and Example to y'' Brethren in Commission. 
Please to direct y*" Answer to me on Board as in 
the Date, if gone to be returned, and then send 
it by the Post and Pacquet to Lisbon to 
'Y'" afFect Brother 

' H. Fielding.' 

This letter, apart from its manly, cheerful tone, 
affords a good deal of minor information. It 
mentions the writer's mother-in-law, Mrs. Daniel, 
who had probably remained at Ealing in charge 
of his remaining children ; it gives the names of 
the captain and of the ship, not given in the 
'Journal'; it refers to the 'Journal' itself as in 
progress or contemplation; and it confirms the 
fact that John Fielding (and not Saunders Welch, 
as Boswell thought) was his brother's immediate 
successor at Bow Street. From the Isle of Wight, 
the ' Queen of Portugal ' proceeded to Tor Bay, 
whence the earlier of the two new letters is 
dated. It is addressed as before to John Fielding : 

'ToRR Bay, July 22, 1754. 
' Dear Jack Soon after I had concluded my 
Letter of Business to Welch yesterday, we came 



A Fielding ' Find' 1 33 

to an Anchor in this Place, which our Capt says 
is the best Harbour in the World. I soon re- 
membered the Country and that it was in the 
midst of the South Hams a Place famous for 
Cyder and I think the best in England, in great 
Preference to that of Herefordshire. Now as I 
recollect that you are a Lover of this Liquor when 
mixed with a Proper Number of Midd^ Turneps, 
as you are of Port Wind well mixed likewise, I 
thought you might for the Sake of Variety be 
pleased with once tasting what is pure and 
genuine, I have therefore purchased and paid for 
2 Hddsof this Cyder when they will be delivered 
in double Casks to y' Order transmitted by any 
Master of a Coasting Veflel that comes from 
London to these Parts. You must send the 
very Paper inclosed that being the Token of the 
Delivery. The Freight of both by a Coaster of 
Devon or Cornwall will be 8 shillings only, 
which is I believe y*" whole Expence. They 
stand me within a few shillings at 4^^, and the 
learned here are of Opinion they are the finest 
of their kind, one being of the rougher the other 
of the sweeter Taste. Welch will easily find al- 
most every Day one of these Coasters in London, 
which the Uncertainty of our Stay here and the 
Hurry which every Veering of the Wind puts us 



1 34 A Fielding * Find' 

in prevents my providing here. It will be fit for 
drinking or bottling a Month after it hath lain in 
your Vault. I have consigned it in the following 
manner. Haifa Hdd to yourself, half to Welch? 
half to Hunter and half to JVIillar, and I wish you 
all merry over it. 

* In your last, there is only one Paragraph 
which I wish better explained. If Boor be trusty. 
Pray let me know any Shadow of a Doubt : for 
the very Supposition gives me much Uneasiness. 
If he is not trusty he is a Fool ; but that is very 
possible for him to be, at least to catch at a lefTor, 
and dishonest Profit, which is present and certain 
in Preference to what is in all Respects its Re- 
verse. Pray give me as perfect Ease as you can 
in this Particular. I begin to despair of letting 
my House this Summer. I hope the Sale of my 
Wine may be more depended on: for the almost 
miraculous Dilatoriness of our Voyage, tho it 
hath added something to the Pleasure, hath added 
much more to the Expense of it. In so much 
that I wish Welch would send a 20^^ Bill of 
Exch^ by [word illegible'] means immediately after 
me ; tho I fear Boor^ Demands for Harvest 
Labourers have greatly emptied his hands, and I 
would not for good Reasons be too much a 
Debtor to the best of Friends, I hope at the 



A Fielding ' Find ' 135 

same time to see a particular Account of the 
State of Affairs at Fordhook, and the whole Sum 
of Payments to Boor from my leaving him to the 
date of such Letter, when I presume the Har- 
vest, as to England, will be pretty well over. I 
beg likewise an exact Account of the Price of 
Wheat p Load at Uxbridge. I have no more of 
Business to say, nor do I know what else to write 
you: for even the Winds with us afford no 
variety. I got half a Buck from the New Forest, 
while we lay at the Ifle of Wight, and the Pasty 
still sticks by us. We have here the finest of 
Fish, Turbot, vast Soals and Whitings for less 
than you can eat Plaise in Mdd^. So that Lord 
Cromarty^ Banishment from Scotland hither was 
somewhat less cruel than that of Ovid from Rome 
to Pontus.^ We may however say with him — 
" Quam vicina est ultima Terra mihi ! " Ultima 
Terra you know is the Land^ End which a ten 
Hours Gale from North or East will carry us to, and 
where y*" Health with all our Friends left behind 
us in England will be most cheerfully drunk by 
' Y' affect*^ Brother 

^H. Fielding. 
' All our loves to my sister.' 

^ This reference to Lord Cromarty is doubtless due to 
Fielding's connection with the anti-Jacobite press. 



136 A Fielding ' Find' 

This very characteristic epistle is to the full as 
interesting, and almost as informing as that 
written ten days earlier from the Isle of Wight. 
A few sentences need brief comment. In the 
'Journal ' the reference to 'Middlesex Turneps' 
is made clear by the statement that this ' watry ' 
vegetable entered largely into the composition of 
the metropolitan 'Vinum Pomonas.'^ Thepeculiar 
description of wine as ' wind,' was, besides being 
a popular vulgarism,^ a curiosity of the Ryde 
landlady's little account. From the ' Journal ' it 
also seems that Fielding purchased a third hogs- 
head of cider for himself, which brought his ex- 
penditure up to ^5 10^. 'Cheeshurst,' given in the 
printed record as the address of Mr. Giles Lever- 
ance, the salesman, should have been the name 
of his farm, for in the letter, or rather at the back 
of it, he is described in another script as of Chur- 
ston, that is — Churston-Ferrers, a village on the 
Devon Coast near Brixham. Welch was Saun- 

^ ' But this I warn Thee, and shall alway warn, 
No heterogenous Mixtures use, as some 
With watry Turneps have debas'd their Wines, 
Too frugal.'— (Philips' ' Cyder,' 1708, Bk. ii.) 

- The 'fine gentleman' in ' Humphry Clinker,' it may 
be remembered, offers to treat Miss Winifred Jenkins with 
'a pint of wind' (2nd ed., i, 231). 



A Fielding ' Find' 137 

ders Welch, High Constable of Holborn, the 
friend of Johnson and Hogarth as well as of 
Fielding, and the father-in-law of Nollekens, the 
sculptor; Hunter was William Hunter, the 
'great surgeon and anatomist of Covent garden'; 
and Millar was Andrew Millar, Fielding's pub- 
lisher, of ' Shakespear's Head over-against Kath- 
erine Street in the Strand.' Boor, whose trust- 
worthiness is under suspicion, must have been 
the Richard Boor who was one of the witnesses 
to the undated Will executed by Fielding at 
Ealing before his departure from England. He 
was also, in all likelihood, the bailiff or agent-in- 
charge of the ' little house ' at Ealing (Fordhook),^ 
which if it involved harvesting and wheat crops, 
should have had farm-land attached to it. The 
' buck,' and the pasty which Mrs. Fielding made 
therefrom, are both mentioned in the 'Journal.' 
Lord Cromarty was George Mackenzie, the 

* Fordhook no longer exists; and the site, on the Ux- 
bridge Road, opposite the Ealing Common Station of the 
Metropolitan District Railway, is now covered by houses. 
A sketch of it, as somewhat altered and enlarged by sub- 
sequent occupants, is to be found in the Guildhall Library. 
From a plan in the Ealing Town Hall, dated 1741, there 
were then fields to the north and east, and later tenants 
seem to have held land. ' Fielding Terrace ' and ' Ford- 
hook Avenue' preserve its memory. 



138 A Fielding ' Find' 

third earl, sentenced to death after the '45, but 
respited. He was allowed to reside at Layhill in 
Devonshire. The apposite Latin quotation which 
Fielding makes in this connection is a fresh in- 
stance of that natural habit of letters on his part 
which a cheap criticism is accustomed to stig- 
matize as pretentious erudition; and the lady 
referred to in the postscript was probably John 
Fielding's first wife, Elizabeth Whittingham, 
whose adopted daughter, Mary Ann, afterwards 
married the novelist's son Allen. 

The seal of this document, part of which re- 
mains, displays the double-headed Austrian eagle 
bearing a coat-of-arms on its breast.^ The second 
letter differs considerably from those which have 
been quoted hitherto. In the first place, it is 
much longer; and in places exhibits signs of haste 
and a perturbation of spirit which are absent 
from its predecessors, although now and again the 
old joy of life and natural cheerfulness break out 
irrepressibly. The writing is sometimes scarcely 
decipherable ; and the paper in places is torn and 
mutilated — a condition of things which fully 

1 This shows that Fielding would probably have dis- 
approved the modern discoveries of Mr. J. Horace Round 
in regard to the relations of the Denbighs and the Habs- 
burgs. 



A Fielding * Find ' 1 39 

justifies the treatment by paraphrase of part of its 
matter. From internal evidence it must have 
been w^ritten about tvi^o or three weeks after 
Fielding reached Lisbon on August 14. For its 
better comprehension, it may be well to remind 
the reader that Fielding's party, as expressly 
stated in the ' Journal,' consisted of j/x persons: 
namely — Fielding himself; his wife; his eldest 
daughter, Harriot; Mrs. Fielding's * friend,' Miss 
Margaret Collier; and two servants, a footman, 
William, whose ignoble surname has not sur- 
vived, and a maid, Isabella Ash, who, with Miss 
Collier and Richard Boor, had witnessed the 
Ealing will. Miss Collier, who was a daughter 
of Arthur Collier, the metaphysician and author 
of ' Clavis Universalis,' was doubtless well ac- 
quainted with the family, for her sister, Jane, had 
collaborated with Sarah Fielding in the ' New 
Dramatic Fable' of 'The Cry,' published by 
Dodsley in the March of this year. Though ad- 
dressed as before to John Fielding, Esq.: 'p. the 
Lisbon Packet,' the letter begins without further 
ceremony as follows : 

' I am willing to waste no Paper as you see, 
nor to put you to the Expense of a double Letter 
as I write by the Packet, by which I would have 
you write to me every Letter of Consequence, if 



140 A Fielding' Find' 

it be a single Sheet of Paper only it will not cost 
the more for being full and perhaps you have not 
time even to fill one Sheet for as 1 take it the 
idlest Man in the World writes now to the 
busiest, and that too at the Expence of the latter. 
' I have rec^ here two Letters from you and 
one from Welch. The money I have tho I was 
forced to discount the Note, it being drawn at 
36 days Sight upon a Portugese who never doth 
anything for nothing. I believe as it was in 
Portugese neither you nor Welch knew this, 
and it was the Imposition of the Drawer in 
London. Your Letter of Business I have not 
yet seen. Perhaps it is lost, as if it came by a 
Merchant Ship it easily may : for the Captains of 
these Ships pay no Regard to any but Merchants 
for which Reason I will have all my Goods even 
to the smallest Parcel consigned to John Stubbs 
Esq"" (as I mentioned before, and hope will be 
done long before y° receive this) marked with the 
large red F. — Pardon Repetition for abundans 
Cautela non nocet, and tho I mentioned my 
orders, I did not give the Reason I believe either 
to y° or Welch, at least all my Reasons for these 
are Several but this is most worth y' Notice, 
The Truth is that Captains are all y® greatest 
Scoundrels in the World but Veale is the greatest 



A Fielding '' Find'' 141 

of them all. This I did not find out till the Day 
before he sailed, which will explain many Things 
when you see him as perhaps you may for he is 
likewise a Madman, which I knew long before I 
reached Lisbon and he sailed a few Days ago. I 
shall not, after what I have said, think him worth 
my Notice, unless he should obiter fall in my Way. 

' In answer to yours, if you cannot answer . . . 
yourself, I will assure you once for all I highly 
approve and thank you, as I am convinced I 
always shall when y° act for me, I desire there- 
fore you will always exert unlimited Power on 
these Occasions. 

' With regard to the principal Point, my Health, 
which I have not yet mentioned, I was tapped 
again (being the 5th time) at Torbay . . . and 
possibly here I left the Dropsy, for I have heard 
nothing of it since. . . . 

In Short as we advanced to the South, it is in- 
credible how my Health advanced with it, and I 
have no Doubt but that I should have perfectly 
recovered my Health at this Day, had it not been 
obstructed by every possible Accident which For- 
tune could throw in my Way.' 

Here a part is missing ; and we may take leave 
to summarize. The first ' accident' was that his 
whole family, ' except myself [!], Harriot and 



142 A Fielding ' Find' 

Bell ' (the maid, Isabella), fell ill. William, the 
footman, a poor creature, having increased his 
disorder by indulging too freely in the cheap 
wines of the country, was seized with a panic 
apprehension of dying in a foreign land, and be- 
coming an object of unmeasured contempt to his 
deserted master, took ship in the ' Queen of Por- 
tugal' for London. The letter proceeds: 

' In the next Place I found myself in the dear- 
est City in the World and in the dearest House 
in that City. I could not for my Soul live for 
less than 2 Moidores a day [^2 i\s. — the old 
moidore being about 27^.] and saw myself likely 
to be left Pennyless i,ooo miles from home, 
where I had neither Acquaintance nor Credit 
among a Set of People who are tearing one 
another's Souls out for money and ready to de- 
posite Millions with Security but not a Farthing 
without. In this Condition moreover I saw no 
Likelihood nor Possibility of changing my Posi- 
tion. The House I was in being the cheapest of 
the three in which alone I could get a Lodging 
with*' being poisoned. 

' Fortune now seemed to take Pity on me, and 
brought me by a strange Accident acquainted 
with one Mr. Stubbs,^ the greatest Merchant of 
' V. supra, p. 140. 



A Fielding^ Find' 143 

this Place, and the greatest Corn factor in the 
World. He hath a little Kintor [quinta ^] or Villa 
at a Place called Jonkera [Junqueira], 2 miles 
from Lisbon and near Bellisle [Belem]^ which is 
the Kensington of England [Portugal ?], and 
where the Court now reside. Here he likewise 
got me a little House with*^ any manner of Furni- 
ture not even a Shelf or even a Kitchin Grate. 
For this I am to pay 9 Moidores a year, and 
hither I boldly came with scarce sufF* Money to 
buy me the Necessar[ies] of Life. . . .' 

At this point we may again abridge. In furnish- 
ing the ' villakin,' Fielding's funds sank to the 
lowest ebb. But a well-timed bill arriving from 
his brother, the tables were turned, and his ex- 
penses became moderate. Instead of two moidores 
a day, he found he could live for less than a 
moidore per week, and with difficulty exceed it. 
' Where then,' he asks, * was the Misfortune of 
all this? or what was there which could retard 

^ A quinta, in Spanish and Portuguese, is a small farm 
or country-house, so called because the tenant pays to the 
landlord a fifth part of the produce. 

2 Fielding makes the same odd slip in the 'Journal,' 
adding another by saying that Catherine of Arragon is 
buried there, whereas he should have written Catherine of 
Braganza, widow of Charles II. Junqueira is a suburb of 
Lisbon. 



144 A Fielding ^ Find' 

my Recovery, or shock a Philosophy so estab- 
lished as mine which had triumphed over the 
Terrors of Death when I thought it both certain 
and near.' The answer is — that Mrs. Fielding, 
who, as we know, had fallen ill on landing, was 
still ailing in spirit. The climate of Portugal did 
not suit her: she was home-sick; and probably 
yearning for her little family at Fordhook. ' She 
is,' says Fielding, 'I thank God recovered; but 
so dispirited that she cries and sighs all Day to 
return to England,' where she believed her hus- 
band might complete his convalescence just as 
well as at Lisbon, since he could not there 
readily command a coach, or see after his children 
and his home. This, to Fielding, who felt him- 
self daily growing stronger, was most disquieting; 
and far more wearing than it would have been to 
a more selfish or less warm-hearted man. Mat- 
ters, moreover, were further complicated by the 
proceedings of that ambiguous ' another ' (the 
word is Fielding's own), who, either as com- 
panion or confidante, plays so disturbing a part in 
many domestic difficulties. She is not named ; but 
she must, we fear, be identified with Margaret 
Collier, She was poor; she was pushing and 
clever; she had become a 'Toast of Lisbon'; 
and she was apparently steadily setting her cap at 



A Fielding ^ Find' 145 

the English Resident, one Williamson, a friend 
of Andrew Millar. Probably knowing that if 
Fielding went home with his wife and daughter 
she also would have to accompany them, she 
seems to have originated the insidious suggestion 
that Mrs. Fielding should go back alone; and that 
she (Miss Collier) should remain behind in charge, 
as companion to Harriot. One can easily imagine 
the intense vexation that, as hope revived and the 
pressure of necessity decreased, these unpalatable 
propositions must have caused to Fielding. ' ^y 
these means,' he says, ' my Spirits which were at 
the Top of the House are thrown down into the 
Cellar.' ^ 

The passages immediately succeeding deal with 
plans for defeating Miss Collier's machinations. 
They show much excusable irritation — and even 
some incoherency. It is obvious, however, that 
Fielding has not the slightest intention of preju- 
dicing his last chances of recovery by returning 
prematurely to England. One of the things he 
wishes his brother to do, is to send him out a 
* conversible Man to be my companion in an 
Evening, with as much of the Qualifications of 
Learning, Sense, and Good humour as y° can 

1 This must have been a common eighteenth-century 
figure, for Cradock uses it to describe Sterne. 
L 



146 A Fielding ^ Find' 

find, who will drink a moderate Glass in an Even- 
ins: or will at least sit with me till one when I 
do.' He does not know, he goes on, anybody 
more likely to grow better than himself; he has 
now vigour and elasticity in his limbs ;^ gets 
easily in and out of a carriage ; when in it, can 
ride the whole day; but all this will be lost if he 

ffoes back, or if the schemes of ' another ' are al- 
to ? 

lowed to prevail. The letter closes with dispersed 
particulars of presents, chiefly eatables, which he 
has despatched to friends in England. The list 
includes Dr. Collier — ' whose very name [he 
adds] I hate'; and who may have been Miss Col- 
lier's brother, as her father had long been dead. 
Then come directions for clothes he desires to have 
sent out to him, ' for the Winters here are short 
but cold.' The tailor is to make them wider in 
the shoulders — a proof that he is putting on 
flesh. But he must speak for himself: 

' Let me have likewise my Tye and a new 
Mazer Perriwig from Southampton Street, and a 
new Hat large in the Brim from my Hatter, the 
corner of Arundel S*. I have had a Visit from a 
Portugese Nobleman, and shall be visited by all 
as soon as my Kintor is in order. Bell follows 

' In taking ship at Rotherhithe, he had ' no use of his 
limbs,' and was hoisted like a log over the side. 



A Fielding' Find' i^y 

Capt Veale to England where he hath promised 
to marry her. My Family now consists of a 
black Slave and his Wife, to which I desire you 
to add a very good perfect Cook, by the first ship, 
but not by Veale. Scrape together all the Money 
of mine you can and do not pay a Farthing with- 
out my Orders. My Affairs will soon be in a fine 
Posture, for 1 can live here, and even make a 
Figure for almost nothing. In Truth the Produce 
of the Country is preposterously cheap. I bought 
three Days ago a Leafe of Partridges [leash — 
that is, three] for ab' 1.4 English and this Day 5 
young Fowls for half a Crown. What is imported 
from abroad is extravagantly dear, especially what 
comes from England as doth almost all the pro- 
vision [?] of Lisbon. I must have from Fordhook 
likewise 4 Hams a very fine Hog fatted as soon 
as may be and being cut into Flitches sent me 
likewise a young Hog made into Pork and salted 
and pickled in a Tub. A vast large Cheshire 
cheese and one of Stilton if to be had good and 
mild. I thank Welch for his, but he was cheated: 
God bless you and y'^H. P'ielding mil annos &c.' 
A postscript, of which the end is wanting, re- 
veals further iniquity on the part of William, the 
footman, who, after his inglorious departure, is 
found to have cheated his master of ^3 12s. by 



148 A Fielding ' Find' 

pretending that he had discharged an unpaid bill. 
This sum is to be deducted from any draft he 
may present for payment; and as a mild punish- 
ment, he is to be stripped of his livery. As for 
Isabella, she is ' only a Fool 'j and Fielding 
wishes her to be provided for at that Universal- 
Registry-Office in which he and his half-brother 
were jointly concerned. 

Of all these matters there is nothing in the 
'Journal,' which ends abruptly with the arrival of 
the ' Queen of Portugal ' at Lisbon. What more 
came to pass in those brief weeks that followed 
the despatch of the foregoing letter, will now 
probably never be revealed. At this date, Field- 
ing, it is clear, firmly believed he should recover. 
But early in October 1754 his joys and sorrows, 
his frank delight of living and his unconquerable 
hopefulness, found their earthly close in the quiet 
English Cemetery. His widow survived him 
many years, dying at Canterbury as late as March 
1802. Harriot, his daughter, eventually married 
Colonel James Gabriel Montresor, and lived a 
brief wedded life. As for Miss Margaret Collier, 
she retired to Ryde; but scarcely, one would 
imagine, to meditate the memories of her Penin- 
sular manoeuvres. In 1755 she wrote to Richard- 
son, complaining that she had been reported to be 



A Fielding ' Find' 149 

the author of the 'Journal,' because 'it was so 
very bad a performance' — a verdict vi^hich the 
excellent Samuel no doubt heartily approved. 
Another tradition concerning her is, that a profile 
she cut in paper supplied the initial hint for 
Hogarth's posthumous portrait of the author of 
' Tom Jones.' As if the marvellous eye-memory 
of Hogarth could possibly have needed such a 
stimulus! Whether Captain Richard Veal ever 
married Isabella Ash, the maid, is not recorded; 
but from what we know of the antecedents of 
that septuagenarian lady-killer and ex-privateer, 
he probably did not. It is, however, to be hoped 
that the feeble and fraudulent William was duly 
mulcted in the full amount of which he had 
sought to ' bubble ' his confiding employer.' 

^ The two letters referred to in this paper were sold 
at Sotheby's on Friday, 15th March, 1912, for ^^305, 
being Lots 360 and 361 (' Athenaeum,' 23rd March). 



THE BAILLl DE SUFFREN 

' Pourquol n'en ai-je pas trouve un> de sa trempe? j'en 
aurais fait notre Nelson, et les affaires eussent pris un autre 
tournure!' — Napoleon to Las Cases at St. Helena. 

MONSIEUR PHILIP JAMES DE 
LOUTHERBOURG, Painter to the 
King of France, and R.A. of London and Paris, 
although a naturah'zed British subject, has been 
roundly taken to task for depicting, on a canvas 
at Greenwich Hospital, that ' glorious victory ' 
of the 1st of June 1794, when Richard, Earl 
Howe, beat the French off" Ushant. ' It is dis- 
graceful,' says one of Loutherbourg's French 
critics, 'for a Frenchman to have made such a 
picture, when his compatriots, who manned the 
" Vengeur " at that battle, went down singing the 
" Marseillaise " rather than lower their colours.' ^ 
Such, no doubt, was Barrere's boastful report to 
the National Convention ; but modern English 
historians will hardly accept his version, seeing 
that the colours were lowered and that some three 
hundred and thirty of the 'Vengeur's' crew were 

1 Dussieux, ' Les Artistes Fran^ais a I'Etranger/ 3rd 
ed. 1876, p. 285. 

150 




THE BAILLI DE SUFFRKN 
(from the portrait by GIlRARD) 



The\Bailli de Suffren 151 

rescued by the English boats. The remainder did 
however sink crying 'Vive la Republique ! ' like 
the gallant Frenchmen that they w^ere. And as 
for Loutherbourg, even if he had not been for 
twenty years an Englishman by adoption, he was 
surely justified in painting what he pleased. At 
any rate, we propose for the moment to take a 
leaf from his book. It is not to the exploits of 
Hawke or Boscawen, or Rodney or Duncan or 
Jervis, that we shall now turn our attention, but 
to those of a farnous French pre-revolutionary 
sailor, the Bailli de Suffren, who, about 1782- 
1783, gave us so much trouble in the Bay of 
Bengal. Valour, decision, energy, initiative — 
these things have no nationality ; and the old 
Provencal ' sea-hero,' as Carlyle calls him, pos- 
sessed, in full measure, the great qualities of a 
great naval commander. 

In the opinion of M. Charles Cunat of St. 
Malo,^ Suffren's first biographer, himself a retired 
naval officer, the Bailli's doings by sea and land 
wholly overshadow those minor details of his 
career which appeal to * puerile curiosity ' alone. 

^ 'Histoire du Bailli de Suffren," Rennes, 1852. 'Bailli,' 
it should be explained, is a superior grade in the Knights 
of St. John of Jerusalem, or Knights of Malta, to which 
Order Suffren belonged. 



152 The Bailli de Stcffren 

' My book,' M. Cunat writes, ' will not contain 
any of those private facts for which the idle 
reader seeks in the lives of great men.' Owing to 
this reserve — which is wise or otherwise accord- 
ing as the reader elects to class himself — the 
account of the Bailli's early years occupies but a 
small place in his chronicler's pages. Pierre-Andr6 
de Suffren Saint-Torpez (later corrupted into 
Tropez) was the third son of Paul de Suffren, 
Marquis de Saint-Torpez; and was born on 17th 
July 1729, at the Chateau of Saint-Cannat, near 
Lambesc, in the present department of the 
Bouches-du-Rhone. Destined from his birth to 
the sea and the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, 
he was educated to this end ; and at the age of 
fourteen was sent to Toulon. Entering the navy as 
a ' garde de la marine ' or cadet, he received orders 
to join the ' Solide,' 64 guns, one of a squadron 
which the Cabinet of Versailles was equipping to 
aid the Spanish vessels shut up in Toulon by the 
Mediterranean fleet under Admiral Mathews. In 
the indecisive action, or battle of Hyeres (Feb- 
ruary 1744), which followed, ending with the 
retreat of Mathews, young Suffren received his 
'baptism of fire,' the 'Solide' engaging the 'North- 
umberland ; ' and, according to M. Cunat, he al- 
ready displayed the bravery for which he was 



The Bailli de Suffren 153 

afterwards so renowned. From the ' Solide ' he 
passed to the ' Pauline,' part of a fleet under Cap- 
tain Macnamara bound for America. Here again 
he had fresh experiences of naval warfare. The 
* Pauline ' laid up, he was transferred to the 
'Trident,' 64 guns, Captain d'Estourmel, which, in 
1746, set out from Brest with a fleet of thirteen 
sail, destined to re-capture Cape Breton and break 
up the English colony of Annapolis. But the ex- 
pedition was a hopeless failure. * The Count de 
Maurepas, then in charge of the Department of 
the Marine, had placed at its head the Due 
d'Anville, a possibly competent land-ofl'icer but a 
manifestly fresh-water sailor, whose inexperience 
was not aided by the disloyal officers who re- 
sented his command, and even wilfully betrayed 
him into error. Scurvy, too, broke out in the 
crews ; a storm dispersed the ships, many of which 
fell into the hands of the enemy; and the dis- 
credited remnant returned to Brest. This deplor- 
able disclosure of incapacity, insubordination and 
general mismanagement mkde a profound impres- 
sion on the already observant ' garde de la marine * 
of the ' Trident,' whose ship was one of those that 
escaped. But d'Estourmel reported so well of him 
that he was promoted to a sub-lieutenancy, and 
in 1747 joined the ' Monarque ' (74 guns). 



154 The Bailli de Suffren 

In October of the same year, the ' Monarque ' 
with eight other ships set out from Aix island, at 
the mouth of the Charente, in charge of 252 sail 
bound for America, The commander of the little 
fleet was M. de I'Etandu^re, a brave and experi- 
enced officer. OiF Belle-Isle they were en- 
countered by a British fleet under Admiral 
Hawke (who had fought as a captain in the 
battle of Hyeres), and on this occasion had 
Rodney among his subordinates. The English 
ships greatly outnumbered those of I'Etanduere, 
who nevertheless contrived to secure the safety 
of the convoy. On the other hand, six of his 
ships were captured, one of them being the 
' Monarque,' which, beset by three of the enemy 
at once, and with a dead or dying captain, had 
been forced to surrender. L'Etanduere's ship, the 
'•Tonnantj'with the 'Intrepide '(Captain deVaud- 
reuil), by which he had been most ably seconded, 
succeeded in getting safely to Brest. Sub-lieu- 
tenant de Suffren, who, in after days, never tired 
of talking of the exploits of the 'Tonnant' andthe 
'Intr6pide,' was carried as a prisoner to England, 
vv^here he remained until the Peace of Aix-la- 
Chapelle. He found us ' arrogant,' a not unusual 
complaint against conquerors; and, it is deplorable 
to think, henceforth grew to hate us cordially. 



The Bailli de Suffren 1 5 5 

There was little reason for love, since the Belle- 
Isle battle, coupled with Anson's victory ofF Cape 
Finisterre in the preceding May over a French 
fleet carrying supplies to the East Indies, had 
practically effaced the French fighting navy for a 
season. And Anson's victory, it is held, had much 
to do with the establishment of British supremacy 
in India. 

Released in 1748 at the Peace, SufFren, as he 
had always intended, entered the Order of St. 
John of Jerusalem; and, being at once admitted 
as a Knight, was for the next six years occupied 
in ' caravanning ' or convoying trading ships, and 
fighting the unspeakable Turk. In 1754 he 
quitted Malta to return to Toulon ; and shortly 
afterwards joined the ' Dauphin Royal.' Sailing in 
the following year with a squadron for Canada he 
narrowly escaped being once more taken by the 
English. The Seven Years' War was brewing 
though not begun ; and Hawke and Boscawen 
were already engaged in those acts of naval war- 
fare which — according to the point of view — are 
regarded either as piracy or reprisals. After this, 
SutFren, now a full lieutenant, was at his own 
request appointed to the ' Orph^e,' one of twelve 
ships which, with Marshal Richeheu and several 
thousand men in transports, left Toulon in 



156 The Bailli de Suffren 

April 1756, under Admiral de la Galissoniere, in 
order to invest Minorca — an enterprise success- 
fully accomplished. On i8th May, England 
definitely declared war ; and two days later took 
place that calamitous engagement in which Byng, 
with a fleet of thirteen ships and four thousand 
men, failed both to relieve the garrison of the 
already-breached fortress of St. Philip at Port 
Mahon and to defeat la Galissoniere. Minorca 
passed to the French ; and Byng retired to 
Gibraltar. Into the justice or injustice of his 
subsequent fate on the quarter-deck of the ' Mon- 
arque,' it is needless to enter here. A court-martial 
had acquitted him of cowardice or disaffection, 
but he could scarcely be cleared from lack of 
enterprise. La Galisonniere did not long enjoy 
his first and last triumph, for on his way to the 
Court at Fontainebleau with the news of his 
success he died. 

Happily for us, however, this French victory 
was not followed by others. Of Suffren's part in 
it no record survives, though Byng's deplorable 
fiasco must assuredly have attracted the attention 
of an observer whose own defects, as he proved 
later, were certainly not those of supineness or 
imperfe£t energy. He was to have further illustra- 
tion of these failings in his new commander, 



Tlie Bailli de Suffren 1 57 

Admiral de la Clue, to whose flagship, the *Oc6an,' 
he passed from the ' Orph^e.' M. de la Clue 
allowed himself to be shut up by Admiral Osborne 
in Cartagena, from which coign of vantage he, to 
the intense disgust of SufFren, passively witnessed 
the capture by the enemy of two of the fleet sent 
to his assistance. This was in February 1758. A 
year later the French King's new minister, 
Choiseul, was equipping his flotilla of flat-bot- 
tomed boats to invade England; and England, on 
her side, was preparing to receive and defeat it. 
In order to escort it to our shores it was necessary 
that the Brest and Toulon squadrons should effect 
a junction. To prevent this, Hawke blockaded 
Brest; and Boscawen, Toulon; while Rodney 
busied himself in bombarding Havre de Grace, 
where the bulk of the flat-bottoms were congre- 
gated together. In August, while Boscawen 
was refitting at Gibraltar, de la Clue escaped 
from Toulon, to be chased almost immediately. 
Either by disaffection or misadventure five of his 
vessels sought refuge in Cadiz. His rear ship, the 
'Centaure,' Captain de Sabran-Grammont, made a 
most gallant resistance ; but two more of the fleet 
stole away at nightfall. With the four remaining 
vessels the French admiral ran ashore between 
Lagos and Cape St. Vincent, where, notwith- 



158 The Bailli de Suffren 

standing the neutrality of Portugal, Boscawen 
burned two and captured the others. One of 
those burned was the 'Oc(^an'; and Suffren once 
more saw the inside of an English prison. The pro- 
jected invasion was of course at an end. More 
fortunate than Byng, those of the French captains 
who behaved badly had no worse punishment 
than the hisses of the mob when they returned to 
Toulon. Things are not always ordered better 
in France — though not many years later ' Mr. 
Yorick ' was to say so. 

On this second occasion Suffren's confinement 
in England was brief, and in due time he was 
released. After some years of inactivity we next 
find him protecting the commerce of the Medi- 
terranean as commander of a xebec. Then, in 
1767, he was promoted to the rank of capitaine 
de frigate.' Slowly gaining the confidence of 
his superiors, after four more years of fighting the 
Barbary sea-rovers, a service which earned him 
the rank of Commander of his Order, he be- 
came, in 1772, a 'capitaine de vaisseau,' and 
in this capacity took part in the evolutions by 
which the Cabinet of Versailles, still smarting 
under the humiliations of the Peace of Paris, 
sought to fortify and train its navy for the further 
developments of war. In 1776 he commanded the 



The Bailli de Suffren 159 

'Alcm^ne; ' in 1777, the ' Fantasque,' 64 guns. 
When, in the following year,hostilities again broke 
out, the ' Fantasque ' had joined the squadron of 
twelve ships of the line and five frigates,which, un- 
der the command of Admiral the Count d'Estaing, 
sailed in April from Toulon to aid the Americans 
in their struggle for independence. D'Estaing's 
progress was slow and cautious, and twelve weeks 
had passed before he reached the Delaware, from 
which the more expeditious Howe, duly advised 
of his approach, had retired ten days earlier. In 
August, Suffren, with the ' Fantasque' and three 
frigates, was employed to clear Newport Harbour 
of the little English flotilla stationed there ; and 
the captains burned or sank their vessels to save 
them from capture by the enemy. During d'Es- 
taing's subsequent operations in the West Indies 
the 'Fantasque' led the line in the engagement with 
Admiral Byron before Grenada, receiving the fire 
of the ' Boyne ' and the ' Royal Oak ' and losing 
sixty-two men in killed and wounded. Suffren was 
afterwards employed by d'Estaing in securing the 
capitulation of some of the lesser Antilles. With 
the collapse of d'Estaing's expedition to Georgia, 
in which Suffren earned further laurels, the 
French fleet returned home; and in March 1780 
Louis XVI, on the report of the French admiral, 



1 60 The Bailli de Suffren 

gave SufFren a pension of 1,500 livres, special 
stress being laid on his gallantry at Grenada. 

His rise had been slow and his recognition 
tardy, for by this time he was a man of fifty. But, 
as the old motto in the Tower has it, ' Tout 
vient a point a qui peult attendre'j and whether he 
had waited for his opportunity or not, it had come 
at lengtii. Louis XVI, who took more interest 
in naval affairs than his contemptible grandfather, 
had recognized Suffren's worth ; and d'Estaing, a 
brave man if a bad sailor (he had been an officer 
of cavalry), magnanimously admitted the ability 
of a frank subordinate who had bluntly criticised 
the shortcomings of his chief. We may pass 
briefly over Suffren's next success, the capture of 
an English convoy off Cape St. Vincent, to pause 
at what really constitutes the beginning of the 
most brilliant part of his career. With five ships 
of the line, a corvette, and a i(t\N transports, he 
was ordered early in 1781 to proceed to the 
Cape, then a colony of the Dutch, with whom 
England had just declared war. The French 
government had learned indirectly that an ex- 
pedition, under the well-known Commodore or 
' Governor ' George Johnstone, was fitting out 
to seize this coveted halting-place on the road to 
India J and Suffren's mission was to secure its 



The Bailli de Suffren i6i 

safety. On March 22 he sailed from Brest with 
the Count de Grasse's fleet, which was bound for 
the West Indies. Off the Azores they parted 
company, de Grasse going westward, Suffren to 
the south. One of his ships, the ' Art(§sien,' was 
found to be short of water; and Suffren, now 
' chef d'escadre ' or commodore, decided to put in 
at the Portuguese colony of Porto Praya in the 
Cape Verd Islands. Here Johnstone, making for 
the Cape, had arrived a k\v days earlier, with five 
ships, several frigates and a number of armed 
transports. Relying too implicitly on the sup- 
posed secrecy of his enterprise and the neutrality 
of the port, he lay quietly at anchor, wholly un- 
prepared for attack. Both commanders were 
naturally taken by surprise. But Suffren was 
neither a d'Anville nor a de la Clue, and his de- 
cision was promptly arrived at. Porto Praya, it 
is true, was in neutral water. But the lieutenant 
of the ' Oc6an ' remembered Boscawen and Lagos 
Bay. Signalling promptly to his captains to fol- 
low, he steered straight into the harbour; 
anchored as close as he could to the English 
flagship; and, regardless of the guns of the Eng- 
lish squadron, the armed transports, and the Por- 
tuguese fortress, opened a vigorous fire. Unhappily 
he was not seconded with equal alacrity. The 
M 



1 62 The Bailli de Suffren 

' Annibal,' which came close after him and whose 
captain was soon killed, by some misconception 
lost time J the ' Vengeur'and the 'Sphinx,' the two 
rear ships, scarcely got into action at all; while the 
' Art^sien,' mistaking in the smoke an East India- 
man for a man-of-war, drifted out of the combat 
altoo-ether. At the end of an hovir's fighting:, 
SufFren, having battered the enemy to his heart's 
content, and finding himself with only two ships, 
one of which, the 'Annibal,' had lost her main- 
and mizen-masts, judged it expedient to cut his 
cables and make off. This he did, as swiftly as 
he came, followed by the 'Annibal,' which, in es- 
caping, lost her remaining mast, but was fortun- 
ately taken in tow by the unoccupied ' Sphinx.' 
The ' Heros ' herself had been roughly handled. 
But Suffren had accomplished more than he knew. 
For though Johnstone, recovering himself, started 
in pursuit, he was prudent enough to abandon his 
designs on the Cape; and Suffren's bold resolve 
to fight then and there was amply justified by the 
event. Had he been effectually supported by his 
subordinates, he would probably have succeeded 
in wholly destroying Johnstone's squadron. 

On 2ist June 1781 he reached Simon's Bay, 
and having satisfied himself of the immunity of 
the Cape from further attack, sailed for the 



The Bailli de Suffren 163 

Mauritius, arriving in October. Here the Count 
d'Orves, aman broken in health and of declining 
energy but a senior in rank, took over the 
cpnimand of the combined fleet, vi^hich consisted 
of eleven ships of the line, three frigates, three 
corvettes and a fire-ship. When SufFren's needful 
repairs were completed, it set sail for India to help 
the famous Sultan of Mysore, Haidar Ali, in his 
efforts to drive the English out of the Carnatic. 
On the way (22nd January 1782) SufFren chased 
and captured an English fifty-gun ship, the ' Han- 
nibal,' the command of which eventually fell to 
the de Galles, who after the captain's death had 
so gallantly fought the French ' Annibal ' at Porto 
Praya. This prize added another battleship to the 
side of the French. On 9th February d'Orves 
died, and his death placed Suffren in supreme com- 
mand. A few days later Suffren sighted Madras, 
where he hoped to surprise the English fleet 
before it could shelter itself under the formidable 
batteries of Black Town and Fort St. George. But 
as things fell out, by this time the English fleet, 
numbering nine large ships of war, was already 
occupying the desired position; and was lying, not 
dispersedly, as at Porto Praya, but in order of battle. 
The leader, too, was of tougher temper than 
Johnstone, and a foe in many respects worthy of 



164 The Bailli de Suffren 

Suffren's steel. Sir Edward Hughes, Knight of 
the Bath, and Vice-Admiral of the Blue, had 
been Commander-in-Chief in the East Indies 
since 1778, and at sea had hitherto had matters 
very much his own way. Two years earlier he 
had destroyed Haidar's fleet at Mangalore. Sub- 
sequently, on hearing of the outbreak of war 
between England and Holland, he had helped 
Sir Hector Munro to reduce the Dutch settle- 
ment of Negapatam on the Coromandel coast. 
He had then proceeded to Trincomali in Ceylon, 
which he reached in January 1782, at once oc- 
cupying the town. The Dutch, however, with- 
drew to Fort Osnaburg, which Hughes stormed 
successfully a few days later. Returning after 
this exploit to Madras, he reached it a few days be- 
fore the already recorded arrival of Suffren. His 
fleet had been reinforced by three more ships 
from England, and when he anchored under the 
guns of the Madras forts he had been forewarned 
of the advent of the French. And thus began the 
series of remarkable naval engagements which, 
inconclusive though they proved, reflected honour 
on both sides, and which only came to an end 
with the Peace of Versailles. Both commanders 
were men of exceptional ability. Hughes was a 
skilled seaman with a great deal of cautious ten- 



The Bailli de Suffren 165 

acity; and Suffren, with all the ardour and verve 
of his nation, was ' brave as his sword.' His tactics 
and strategy are admitted to have been far superior 
to those of his opponent; but Hughes had an ad- 
vantage in the better discipline and steadiness 
of his subordinates. 

Rightly regarding the English admiral's position 
as unassailable, Suffren, after a council of war, 
weighed anchor, and went south to Trincomali, 
guessing, no doubt, that Hughes would follow, 
which he did. Slipping past the French fleet in 
the night, he found at daybreak on 17th Febru- 
ary that, by the carelessness of one of the French 
captains, the convoy had become separated from the 
fleet. Chasing it forthwith, he took six ships, five 
of which were English prizes. The sixth, the 
French transport ' Lauriston,' was more valuable 
still, since, besides a train of artillery and military 
stores, destined for Haidar Ali, she had on board 
three hundred soldiers of the Lausanne regiment. 
As Hughes expected, Suffren came swiftly to the 
rescue; and a struggle ensued between the French 
van of seven ships and the English rear and centre 
of five, the four foremost of the English line never 
being able to tack and come into action. Suffren 
himself in the ' Heros ' engaged Hughes's flagship 
the * Superb,' but the brunt of battle was borne by 



1 66 The Bailli de Suffren 

the ' Exeter,' the sternmost English ship, which 
was assailed successively by several of the enemy, 
the * Orient ' and the ' Petit Annibal ' (the ' Han- 
nibal' prize)distinguishing themselves particularly. 
Much damage was done on both sides, though 
the English suffered most. The ' Superb ' lost her 
captain and two lieutenants, and owing to shot- 
holes in the hull had five feet of water in the 
hold ; while the unfortunate 'Exeter' was pounded 
to a hulk. Hughes' tactics, if not ill-judged, at 
least proved unfortunate; his rear was terribly 
overmatched ; but the ships were fought splen- 
didly, and it was not overwhelmed. Suffren had 
again to complain of the inadequate support he 
received from his captains. Five of his twelve 
ships remained inactive 'spectateurs du combat,' 
disregarding the signals to come to close quarters, 
and firing ineffectively from a distance. Towards 
six in the evening, therefore, when a change of 
wind made it probable that the English van- 
guard could intervene, Suffren ceased fighting. 
The total loss on the French side amounted to 
thirty killed and a hundred wounded; and it is 
naturally contended by Suffren's French bio- 
grapher that Suffren, even without the support 
of his rearguard, could have destroyed or hope- 
lessly crippled the English fleet. There must 



The Bailli de Suffren 167 

however have been other considerations w^hich 
induced him to close the action/ 

This was the first of what Carlyle calls his 
'six non-defeats'' — for Carlyle includes Porto 
Praya with the five actions which subsequently 
took place with Hughes. After that just described, 
which is spoken of indifferently as off Sadras or 
Fort St. George, Hughes went to refit in the 
sheltered harbour of Trincomali, and Suffren 
sailed to Pondicherry to effect negotiations with 
Haidar Ali. His desire was that the land forces 
from France should re-capture that Negapatam 
which not many months before the English 
admiral had helped to wrest from the Dutch. But 
M. Duchemin, who commanded the troops, pre- 
ferred to attack the nearer Cuddalore or Goudelour. 
With the consent of the Sultan this course was 

^ We may here recall — since M. Cunat is generous 
enough to do so — an English incident of this engagement 
off Sadras, as related in Beatson (' Naval and Military- 
Memoirs of Great Britain,' 1804, p. 576). When Com- 
modore King of the * Exeter,' whose second-in-command, 
Captain Reynolds, had been killed at his side by a cannon- 
shot, was asked by the Master what could possibly be done 
with a ship little better than a floating wreck, he answered 
calmly: 'There is nothing to be done but fight her till 
she sink! ' It is pleasant to think that George III made 
King, Sir Richard 5 and that he survived till 1806. 



1 68 The Bailli de Suffren 

accordingly taken. The soldiers were landed at 
Porto Novo, taking Cuddalore on 4th April. 
These transactions had necessarily occupied some 
time; and in the interim Hughes, rapidly recoup- 
ing at Trincomali, had returned to Madras, where 
his fleet was augmented from England bythe 'Mag- 
nanime' and the 'Sultan.' He then again started 
for Trincomali with troops and stores. On the 
8th he sighted the French fleet, of whom he had 
hitherto heard nothing, and on the 12th a second 
action took place near the island of Providien, ofF 
Ceylon. ' This,' says Admiral Mahan, ' was the 
hardest fight between these two hard fighters'; 
and it happened on the very day that Rodney 
defeated and captured de Grasse off Dominica. 
The French had twelve ships, the English eleven. 
After some preliminary manoeuvring, the battle 
began a little after noon. Hughes's line was 
formed in good order, at two cables' length dis- 
tance, the ' Superb ' (74) occupying the centre of 
the line, with the ' Monmouth ' (64) ahead and 
* Monarca ' (74) astern. Five of the French en- 
gaged the English van ; while the remaining 
seven, led by Suffren himself, bore down on the 
three ships mentioned above. The ' H6ros,' and its 
second, the 'Orient,' attacked the 'Superb' within 
pistol shot, and for nine minutes a furious fire was 



The Bailli dc Stiffren 169 

exchanged. Then Suffren, leaving his rear to 
continue the conflict with the 'Superb ' and the 
*Monarca,'devoted his energies to the lesser 'Mon- 
mouth,' whose captain, James Alms, had fought 
under Johnstone at Porto Praya, and, under 
Hughes, had captured the six prizes at Fort 
St. George. Already assailed by one of the French 
fleet, the ' Monmouth ' was speedily reduced to a 
wreck. With her wheel shot away and her masts 
gone, her flag nailed to one stump and a rag of 
sail hoisted on another, she lay like a log on the 
water, until a lucky gust of wind enabled Captain 
Hawker of the English ' Hero ' to tow her into a 
position of comparative security. Out of an 
eff'ective crew of 400 she had 147 killed and 
wounded; in fact, the bulk of the casualties were 
divided between the 'Monmouth' and the flagship. 
The French ' Heros ' must also have fared badly, 
for SuflTren had to transfer his flag to another ship. 
Later in the day the fleets fell apart, and the 
battle was not renewed. Each side claimed the 
advantage; but, once again, either from disaffec- 
tion, or that excessive caution which SufFren 
stigmatized as ' the veil of timidity,' he was ill 
served by his captains. 

The next two actions between SufFren and 
Hughes may be more briefly dealt with. The 



I/O The Bailli de Suffren 

first, on 6th July, took place ofF Negapatam, 
which was still a cherished French objective. 
Hughes, contrary to his custom, began the attack 
on this occasion; and the fleets engaged line to 
line, only to be thrown into hopeless disorder, 
after an obstinate two hours' struggle, by a sudden 
change of wind in which they drew off, as before, 
with contradictory results. Suffren regarded him- 
self as master of the field : Hughes reported to the 
Admiralty that he had obtained a decisive superi- 
ority. But in either case the French operations 
against Negapatam were for the time abandoned. 
In this fight occurred the equivocal incident of 
the 'Severe' (64), which, finding herself opposed 
to the ' Sultan ' (74) and other English ships, 
hauled down her colours by order of her com- 
mander, M. de Cillart. They were immediately 
rehoisted by his indignant subordinates, and the 
*S6v^re' recommenced firing. An interchange of 
recrimination ensued between the admirals on 
the subject; but M. de Cillart was suspended 
and eventually dismissed the service. He was not 
the sole offender, for no fewer than four French 
captains were broke by Suffren and sent to the 
Mauritius.^ 

^ In the Painted Hall at Greenwich Hospital there is a 
picture of the action off Negapatam by Dominic Serres, R. A. 



The Bailli de Suffrcn iji 

Hughes retired to Madras to refit, and the 
French went to Cuddalore. Having been ba'Uked 
in the attempt on Negapatam, Suffren turned his 
attention to Trincomali ; and in this instance con- 
trived to anticipate Hughes. Reinforced at Bat- 
ticaloa from France on 21st August/ he sailed 
for Trincomah", before v^^hich he arrived on the 
25th. Vigorously attacked, the place speedily sur- 
rendered; and when, on 3rd September, Hughes 
made his appearance, the French flag was floating 
from Fort Osnaburg. The fight that followed was 
again indecisive. The fleets were fifteen French 
to twelve English. Suifren's tactics, as at Sadras 
and Providien, were to assail the enemy's rear. 
But excellent as they had proved, they were fruit- 
less in face of the jealousy or ill-will of some of 
his captains, whose discontent by this time had 
grown to a cabal. After a precipitate and dis- 
orderly combat, the French fighting falling almost 
wholly on the flagship * Heros,' the ' lUustre ' and 
the ' Ajax,' the wind changed, and the fleets separ- 

As Serres had been a seaman, and as the picture was the 
bequest of Admiral Hughes, it may be presumed to be 
accurate. Hughes, who survived until 1794, also left his 
portrait by Reynolds to the Hospital. 

^ On the 19th of this month he had received, from the 
Grand Master of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, his 
commission as Bailli, the next grade to that of the head. 



1 72 The Bailli de Suffren 

ated, the French going back to Trincomali and 
the English to Madras. SufFren's disappointment 
knew no bounds, and his words have all the 
emphasis of his anger: 

' My heart [he wrote] is wrung by the most 
general defection. I have just lost the opportunity 
of destroying the English squadron. . . All — 
yes, all — might have got near, since we were to 
windward and ahead, and none did so. Several 
among them had behaved bravely in other com- 
bats. I can only attribute this horror to the wish 
to bring the cruise to an end, to ill-will and to 
ignorance ; for I dare not suspect anything worse. 
The result has been terrible. I must tell you, 
Monseigneur, that officers who have been long at 
the Isle of France are neither seamen nor military 
men. Not seamen, for they have not been at sea ; 
and the trading temper, independent and insub- 
ordinate, is absolutely opposed to the military 
spirit.^ 

The fight off Trincomali took place in Septem- 
ber 1782, and it was nearly nine months before 
the rivals met again. In returning to Trincomali, 
Suffren, by the fault of the commander, lost the 
'Orient,' one of his best ships; and he afterwards 

^ Quoted in Admiral Mahan's ' Influence of Sea Power 
upon History,' 6tii ed. p. 4.35. 



TJie Bail It de Suffren 173 

lost another at Cuddalore. Hughes, having no 
longer a base in Ceylon, had to go round to 
Bombay — not without difficulties in the stormy 
season. Consequently he missed Sir Richard 
Bickerton, who, arriving from England with 
reinforcements and stores, and failing to find 
Hughes in the Bay of Bengal, had to follow him 
to Bombay/ SufFren, on the other hand, wintered 
in Sumatra, where he was more on the spot than 
his adversary. In December 1782 Haidar Ali 
died, and the succession passed to his arrogant 
son, Tipu Saib. With June 1783 the fortune of 
war had centred round Cuddalore, where, by land, 
Coote's successor, Stuart, with a superior force, 
was beleaguering the Marquis de Bussy; and off 
Cuddalore on the 20th, Hughes and Suffren met 
for the last time. The encounter 'was of the 
commonplace eighteenth century order — save for 
two details.' One was, that in pursuance of orders 
from Versailles arising out of the capture of the 
Count de Grasse at Dominica by Rodney, Suffren 
directed operations, not from the flagship in the 
line, but from the ' C16opatre,' a frigate outside it. 
The other was that ' the French fleet of fifteen 

^ One of Bickerton's relief fleet was the * Bristol,' whose 
captain was Fanny Burney's brother James. In the battle 
of Cuddalore the 'Bristol' engasred the ' Hardi.' 



1 74 The Bailli de Suffren 

sail attacked the British fleet of eighteen from 
windward — and it was the British fleet which 
retired.' ^ Five days later Hughes wrote to SufFren 
announcing the conclusion of peace, and suggest- 
ing a suspension of hostilities. 

Hughes was probably not sorry for the turn 
things had taken, for the struggle had been diffi- 
cult and protracted, and some of his crews had 
suffered terribly from sickness. There are also 
indications that SufFren himself did not regard 
the future outlook as hopeful. ' God be praised 
for the peace ! ' he wrote, ' for it was clear that 
in India, though we had the means to impose the 
law, all would have been lost.' ' War alone,' he 
added significantly, ' can make bearable the weari- 
ness of certain things.' Fighting, however, was 
now for the time at an end; and in October 
1783, he set out for France, stopping at the 
Mauritius and the Cape. The passage home was 
a prolonged triumph. Everywhere 'the winds 
Blew his own praises in his eyes.' Especially was 
he gratified by the frank cordiality of his old 
opponents, the English. At Table Bay the cap- 
tains of nine of Hughes's ships, with Commodore 
King of the ' Exeter ' at their head, called eagerly 

* Hannay's ' Short History of the Royal Navy,' 1909, 
ii, 291. 



The Bailli de Suffren 175 

upon him. ' The good Dutchmen have received 
me as their dehverer,' he wrote ; ' but among the 
tributes which have most flattered me, none has 
given me more pleasure than the esteem and con- 
sideration testified by the EngHsh who are here.' 
At Paris, which he reached in April 1784, the 
story is the same. When he appeared at Ver- 
sailles, the ' gardes-du-corps,' hearing his name, 
rose in a body and, quitting their weapons, es- 
corted him to the audience. Louis XVI received 
him most warmly; and Marie Antoinette herself 
presented him to the Dauphin with the words, 
'This is M. de SufFren, one of the men who has 
best served the King.' And when the little boy 
(it must have been the first Dauphin, then four 
years old) hesitated in repeating the name: 'My 
son,' said the Queen, 'you must learn early to 
hear pronounced, and yourself to pronounce the 
name of the hero-defenders of their country.' 
The Countess d'Artois, and her son, the young 
Duke d'Angoul^me, were equally amiable; and 
there was a universal rain of compliments. At a 
dinner given by the Minister of Marine, d'Estaing, 
the Bailli's old commander, being addressed as 
'mon general,' replied, with happy adroitness, 
that M. de SuflTren was the only ' general ' pre- 
sent. The King created for him a special and 



I ^6 The Bailli de Siiffren 

personal office of Vice-Admiral of France; and 
made him a Knight of the Order of the Saint- 
Esprit. Carmontelle sketched him for the Orleans 
collection; his portrait was painted by Francois 
Gerard, and at Salon, near his Provencal birth- 
place, his bust by Foucou was placed in the Hotel 
de Ville. Lastly, the Estates of his native Pro- 
vence struck a magnificent medal in his honour, 
crediting him largely with the protection of the 
Cape, the taking of Trincomali, the relief of 
Cuddalore, the defence of India, and six glorious 
combats. The States-General of Holland also 
presented him with a medal.^ 

To all these distinctions there came in short 
space a mournful sequel. The Bailli's duties as 
Vice-Admiral detained him in Paris, where, for a 
few years, he lived quietly in the Hotel Mont- 
morency at the entrance of the rue de la Chauss^e 
d'Antin. With 1788 the war-cloud again began 
to darken the horizon ; and he was deputed by 

' That ships should be called after him was to be ex- 
pected; and in 1793 a 'SiifFren' of seventy-four guns was 
launched at Brest. But, in 1794, it was decided that 'the 
name of a ci-devant noble ' could not properly figure 
among republican designations, and the * SufFren ' became 
the ' Redoutable.' The 'Redoutable' (Captain Lucas) 
took part in the battle of Trafalgar, and from her mizen- 
top came the musket-ball that killed Nelson. 



The Bailli de Suffren 177 

Louis XVI to superintend the equipment of a 
considerable fleet at Brest. In December, while 
engaged on these duties, he died unexpectedly, 
and was buried quietly on the lOth in the Church 
of Sainte-Marie-du-Temple. The cause of death 
was declared to be apoplexy — in his case only too 
probable. No suspicion seems to have been 
aroused at the time; and it was not until more 
than forty years afterwards that M. Jal, the his- 
toriographer of the French navy, published a 
different account. According to this, SufFren was 
killed in a duel by the Prince de Mirepoix, who 
had invoked his good offices on behalf of two 
nephews then under sentence for dereliction of 
duty in India. The Bailli had refused to inter- 
vene ; and refused in such terms as, in those days, 
could only provoke a demand for satisfaction. 
Honour forbade him to decline the challenge, al- 
though his age (he was in his sixtieth year), and 
his excessive corpulence, wholly unfitted him for 
any encounter of the kind. As a result, he was 
mortally wounded, and succumbed in a couple 
of days. This version of his fate is now generally 
accepted. The solitary witness, it is true, is 
Dehodencq, an old servant in SufFren's household, 
who repeated his story for many years with- 
out variation. There were no motives on his part 

N 



178 The Bailli de Suffren 

for inventing it, while there were several for 
its suppression; and it was a plausible feature 
of the narrative that the Bailli himself had, on 
his deathbed, enjoined those about him to pre- 
serve absolute secrecy in the matter.' 

But whether the Bailli de SufFren died in 
deference to a deplorable social code, or in the 
ordinary course of nature, he was a man of whom 
France has every reason to be proud. In the 
period of moral disintegration, of incompetence 
in high places, of inequitable privileges and 
tyrannous traditions, which heralded the outbreak 
of the French revolution, it was something to be 
a single-minded patriot, putting duty before titles 
of distinction, and love of country before personal 
advancement. SufFren was this — and more. He 
may have been brusque and eccentric — he was a 
blunt seaman, with his heart in his work; he may, 
as Admiral Mahan thinks, have * expected too 
much of his captains' — without training them to' 
do better; but he was a great military genius, 
having all the indispensable equipment of rapid 
perception, clear judgment, prompt decision and 

^ Jai, 'Scenes de la Vie Maritime,' 1832, vol. iii, p. 161 ; 
Cunat, 345 et seq.; and Jal again, ' Diet. Critique,' etc., 
2nd ed. 1872, pp. 1155-7. See Appendix C (Death of the 
Eailli de SufFren). 



The Bailli de Suffren 179 

inflexibility of purpose. The old dilatory methods 
of maritime warfare were too slow for his fiery 
and impetuous southern temperament. Restive 
under inaction — as he had often reason to be — he 
trusted to attack rather than defence ; and though 
a skilful strategist on occasion, preferred bold and 
even hazardous measures to formal evolutions, 
manoeuvres, and 'bookish theoric' Had he been 
better backed from home — had he been better 
served afloat, he might, as he hoped, have suc- 
ceeded in ' destroying the English squadron,' with 
results to our supremacy in the East which, for- 
tunately, it is now only possible to conjecture. 



EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY 
STOWE 

' A Work to wonder at — perhaps a Stowe.' — Pope. 

IN one of Horace Walpole's letters to George 
Montagu, dated July 1770, there is a passage 
which might well serve as a perpetual preface to 
any account of the once-famous Buckinghamshire 
mansion known as Stowe. The letter relates how 
the writer was ' requisitioned ' by his beloved 
' Princess Am6Iie,' George II. 's daughter, to ac- 
company a select party on a five days' visit to 
Lord Temple's country-seat. They walked or 
drove about the grounds, drank coffee at the 
triumphal arch which their host had erected in 
the Princess's honour, fished fitfully in the lake, 
' played at pharaoh till ten,' and altogether 
amused themselves consumedly. ' We laughed a 
great deal, and had not a cloud the whole time.' 
Then comes the particular passage indicated 
above: 'The number of buildings and variety of 
scenes in the garden made each day different 
from the rest; and my meditations on so historic 
180 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe i8i 

a spot prevented my being tired. Every acre 
brings to one's mind some instance of the . . . 
greatness or miscarriages of those that have in- 
habited, decorated, planned, or visited the place. 
Pope, Congreve, Vanbrugh, Kent, Gibbs, Lord 
Cobham, Lord Chesterfield, the mob of nephews, 
the Lytteltons, Grenvilles, Wests, * Leonidas ' 
Glover and Wilkes, the late Prince of Wales, the 
King of Denmark, Princess Amdlie . . . [all these, 
says Walpole,] add visionary personages to the 
charming scenes, that are so enriched vi^ith fanes 
and temples, that the real prospects are little less 
than visions themselves.' To revive Walpole's 
reminiscences — reminiscences, it should be added, 
not always consistent — one must be Walpole. 
But we may fairly attempt to recall some of 
the people and things he mentions. 

The Temples of Stowe in Bucks and of Cobham 
in Kent traced their lineage, if not to Inachus, 
at least to that historic Leofric, Earl of Chester 
and Mercia, who had to wife the Godgifu or 
Godiva of legend. For the moment, however, we 
need go no farther back than the reign of James I, 
when, after various vicissitudes, the estate of 
Stowe had passed definitely to the Temples in the 
person of Thomas Temple of Stowe and Burton 
Dasset, Knight and Baronet. This Sir Thomas 



1 82 Eighteenth- Century Stowe 

Temple married Hester, daughter of Miles Sandys 
of Latimers on the Chess, a lady who, herself 
having a family of thirteen, and surviving through 
four generations, w^as privileged to behold no 
fevv^er than seven hundred of her descendants, a 
fact for the veracity of which Thomas Fuller in 
his 'Worthies' vouches quaintly by declaring 
that he bought the knowledge with the loss of a 
wager. To Sir Thomas succeeded his son. Sir 
Peter, who enclosed some two hundred acres of 
ground for a park ; while the next heir. Sir 
Richard Temple the first, rebuilt what had been 
the Manor House. From him, in 1697, the 
property passed to Sir Richard Temple the 
second, later the Lord Cobham of whom Walpole 
speaks; and with this Sir Richard, a distinguished 
soldier and statesman, the history of Stowe is 
connected for more than half a century. Entering 
the army early, he was present at the sieges of 
Ruremondeand Venloo; and when, in 1708, Lille 
was taken by the Allies, his bearing as Brigadier- 
General justified Marlborough in making him 
the messenger to Queen Anne of the fall of that 
fortress. He was created Baron Cobham at the 
accession of George I, and to announce that fact 
went as Envoy Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary 
to Charles VI, Emperor of Germany. In 17 18 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 183 

he became a Viscount. But it is needless to 
rehearse his further honours, which were many. 
Among other things, he was Colonel of the 
'King's Own,' or Cobham's troop of horse (ist 
Dragoon Guards), in which his connection, 
William Pitt, afterwards first Earl of Chatham, 
but then engrossed in the study of military 
manuals, rode as a cornet. After becoming Con- 
stable of Windsor Castle and Governor of Jersey, 
Cobham fell into disgrace under George II for 
his opposition to the Excise Bill. This turned 
him into the Coryphaeus of the little knot of 
youthful politicians, generally his own relatives, 
whom Sir Robert Walpole contemptuously called 
the 'Boy Patriots.' By 1742 he was a Field- 
Marshal ; and during the King's absence in 
Hanover, was appointed one of the Regents. 
He died in 1749, and was buried at Stowe. Most 
of the intervals of his active life had been passed 
there in entertaining his friends, enlarging the 
buildings, and elaborating those spacious gardens 
which, even in an epoch of magnificent rural 
' retirements,' rendered the place a permanent 
centre of attraction. 

At the close of the eighteenth century, the 
ornamental grounds of Stowe (with which, follow- 
ing the old contemporary guide-books, it is con- 



184 Eight eenth-Centmy Stowe 

venient to begin, occupied some four hundred 
acres, and were in part surrounded by a sunk 
fence, on the inner side of which was a wide, 
elm-shaded gravel-walk. When Sir Richard 
Temple first entered on his tenancy, the formal 
horticultural models favoured by William and 
Anne were in full vogue ; and the place was laid 
out much after the Dutch fashion adopted by 
London and Wise at Kensington Palace and 
elsewhere. But under the first George, Charles 
Bridgeman, the royal head-gardener, became also 
the presiding spirit at Stowe. He it was who 
probably instituted the above-mentioned sunk 
fence, a device borrowed from the military art; 
and he went on gradually to blend the landscape 
with the garden, and to substitute lawns and 
vistas for pleached alleys and precise flower beds.^ 
When, in 1738, Bridgeman died, he was suc- 
ceeded by Lancelot, afterwards known as ' Capa- 
bility' Brown, who, beginning modestly, ulti- 
mately attained the position of resident gardener- 
in-chief. Under Brown, the ruralising of the 
place continued ; and the opening of effective 
points of view, the planting out of unpicturesque 

^ In 1848 his original plans and drawings for Stowe 
were still in existence. They had been engraved by Rigaud 
and Baron in 1739. 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 185 

objects, the creation of hollows and hillocks, 
cascades and lakes, were carried forward system- 
atically. Lastly, or rather concurrently, were 
erected those characteristic ' fanes and temples ' 
spoken of by Walpole, rendering the spot, in 
the words of another chronicler, 'when beheld 
from a distance . . . like a vast grove, interspersed 
with columns, obelisks, and towers, which 
apparently emerge from a luxuriant mass of 
foliage.' 

In promoting these developments it is probable 
that Bridgeman and Brown were largely advised 
and aided by another eminent votary of the new 
methods in gardening, the multifarious William 
Kent, who is also primarily responsible for most 
of the dispersed buildings, although it is not 
always easy to fix the exact date of their con- 
struction. But as Vanbrugh, to whom some 
of them confessedly belong, died in 1726, and 
Kent himself in 1748, it may safely be concluded 
that the structures associated with their names 
are contemporary with Lord Cobham, as he, too, 
died in 1 749. The squat little Temple of Bacchus 
overlooking the lake, and decorated by the ' alti- 
rilievi ' of that elder Nollekens who died from 
terror of the '45; the Rotundo, with its dome 
and delicate Ionic columns ; and the two Boycott 



1 86 Eighteenth-Century Stowe 

pavilions,^ were certainly designed by Vanbrugh, 
although they appear to have been modified in 
construction by the Signor Borra (sometime 
architect to the King of Sardinia), who accom- 
panied ' Palmyra ' Wood in his Syrian re- 
searches. But the majority of the other Cobham 
erections emanated from the fertile brain of Kent. 
Kent it was who planned the entrance Lodges, the 
artificial Ruins, the Hermitage, the Grotto; the 
temple of Venus, adorned appropriately with 
frescoes by Joseph Slater from Spenser's * Faerie 
Queene '; the temple of Ancient Virtue, equipped 
with full-length statues by Peter Scheemakers of 
Homer, Socrates, Lycurgus, and Epaminondas; 
and the temple of British Worthies. Other build- 
ings were the temple of Friendship, consecrated 
to the somewhat variable company of Lord Cob- 
ham's friends, and including busts of Pitt, Chester- 
field, and Lyttelton ;^ the monument to his 
nephew. Captain Thomas Grenville, who died 
fighting the French under Anson in May 1747, 
and the monument erected in 1736 ' moribus ur- 

^ So called from a hamlet which had been absorbed in 
the Stowe property. 

^ ' The marbles were usually designated by the labourers 
who showed the gardens as the " Bustesses of my lord's 
acquaintances" ' (' Stowe Catalogue,' 1848, p. xxxii). 



Eighteenth- Century Stowe 187 

banis, candidis, facillimis ' of William Congreve. 
This stood on an island in the upper lake. Sur- 
mounted by a monkey inspecting himself in a 
mirror, and ornamented with dramatic acces- 
saries, it was one of the least happy of Kent's 
performances, though it perhaps scarcely deserved 
the condemnation of Macaulay, who calls it, in 
his best sledge-hammer manner, ' the ugliest and 
most absurd of the buildings at Stowe.' The 
Latin quotation reminds us that all the aforesaid 
edifices were lavishly decorated with similar in- 
scriptions ; and that some of those in English were 
by Sir George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton, who 
was the son of Lord Cobham's sister, Christian. 
One of the love-poems addressed by Lyttelton to 
that charming Lucy Fortescue, whom he after- 
wards married, and beginning 

Fair Venus, whose delightful Shrine surveys 
Its front reflected in the silver lake, 

was a direct invocation of the Stowe divinity. 

Lord Cobham seems to have regarded the 
monument of Congreve as an adequate memorial, 
for he figured neither in the temple of British 
Worthies nor the temple of Friendship. But they 
were close friends nevertheless, although the 
records of their intercourse are apparently con- 



1 88 Eighteenth- Century Stowe 

fined to a couple of entries in the * Journal to Stella.' 
In 1730 an unknown rhymer composed, and Curll 
printed, a long and rather dreary ' Epistle to Lord 
Viscount Cobham, in Memory of his Friend, the 
late Mr. Congreve,' in which he says: 

Thee early, and thee last his tuneful Breath 
Addrest with grateful Notes — till stopt by Death j 

the references being to Congreve's ' Art of Pleas- 
ing' and to his imitation of Horace's 'Epistle to 
Tibullus,' one inscribed to Cobham early in Con- 
greve's career, the other composed not long before 
his death. Johnson, whose attitude to Congreve, 
if intelligible, is extremely unsympathetic, flatly 
condemns the ' Art of Pleasing.' "It is founded,' 
he says, 'on a vulgar but perhaps impracticable 
principle, and the staleness of the sense is not 
concealed by any novelty of illustration or ele- 
gance of diction.' But, even though it be no 
more than an imitation, there is surely aphoristic 
compactness in the couplet, 

None are, for being what they are, in fault, 

But for not being what they wou'd be thought, — 

which has also the subordinate merit of illustrat- 
ing that old eighteenth-century pronunciation of 
' fault ' to be found in Pope, Prior, and Gold- 



Eighteenth- Century Stowe 189 

smith. Johnson is, besides, mistaken in saying 
that Congreve, apart from his plays, never penned 
a memorable couplet. Even as regards the poems, 
this is not borne out by modern dictionaries of 
quotations ; while the playwright who has en- 
dowed the language with ' Music has charms to 
soothe a savage breast,' and the line as to ' marry- 
ing in haste' and 'repenting at leisure,' can afford 
to rest upon his laurels as a crystallizer of the 
' wisdom of many.' The epistle also refers to 
Cobham's gifts as a critic, gifts to be presently 
illustrated in his correspondence with Pope. But 
with the statement that Cobham was a pall-bearer 
at Congreve's burial in Westminster Abbey, we 
have exhausted the record of their relations. 

The 'Journal to Stella,' however, suggests the 
name of Swift. Was Swift one of Stowe's 
habitues? He certainly knew Temple in 17 10, 
for he speaks of meeting him in October of that 
year at a ' blind tavern,' ^ where he was drinking 
bad punch with Congreve and Dick Estcourt the 
player. ' The knight [Temple] sent for six flasks 
of his own wine for me, and we staid till twelve,'* 
Ten days later he is dining at Temple's house 

* This seems to mean no more than an obscure house. 
^ The custom of drinking one's own wine at a tavern 
seems peculiar; but there are several references to it in 



190 Eighteenth- Century Stowe 

with Congreve and Vanbrugh. As regards the 
latter he says, ' We were very civil and cold,' 
which is perhaps to be expected. It is hard to 
be effusively cordial to a critic who has likened 
one's architectural efforts to a ' goose pie,' ^ as 
Swift had, a year or two before, in those sar- 
castic Hnes on the house in Scotland Yard which 
Vanbrugh had thrown together for himself out 
of the ruins of Whitehall Palace. What made 
matters worse was, that the Duchess of Marl- 
borough, for whom Vanbrugh was already build- 
ing Blenheim under difficulties, persisted in 
teasing him on the subject, which, says Swift, 
had made him angry, ' though he be a good- 
natured fellow.' There is only one more refer- 
ence to Temple in the 'Journal,' and after 1727 
Swift never returned to England. But of Cob- 
ham's intercourse with Pope there are further 
particulars, though of a later date. In Pope's last 

the ' Diary' (Ashton's 'Social Life in the Reign of Queen 
Anne, 1883, 177). Readers of * Pendennis' may remember 
that, according to Mr. Wagg, Lord Steyne was in the 
habit of sending his own wine to people with whom he 
was in the habit of dining (ch. xxxv). 

*• At length they in the Rubbish spy 

A Thing resembling a Goose Py. 

' Vanbrugh's House,' 1706. 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 191 

letter to Swift he speaks of himself as " generally 
rambling in the summer for a month to Lord 
Cobham's, the Bath, or elsewhere,' and in a letter 
of 1735 to Caryll, we get some hint of the be- 
ginning of the friendship. Pope has known Lord 
Cobham ten years, he says, without writing three 
letters to him; and he adds that he esteems him 
as much as any friend he has, and that he is 
going to stay three weeks with him, namely, at 
Stowe, which he did, meeting Lady Suffolk.^ 
From another letter he had been there in the 
previous year; and earlier still he tells Martha 
Blount how he is drawn about by an ancient 
horse, then used in rolling the gardens, but which 
had once carried James Radcliffe, third Earl of 
Derwentwater, when he was made prisoner at 
Preston.^ In 1739 another letter informs her that 
he is staying at Stowe' en petit comit^ ' with 
Lady Cobham, and her relative, that Henrietta 
Jane Speed whose charms and ' bric-a-brac,' — to 
say nothing of j^3 0,000 — seem, a few years after- 
wards, to have had a transitory attraction for 
Gray. ' Ail the mornings we breakfast and dis- 

^ 'Suffolk Correspondence,' 1824., ii, 143. 

^ Probably an old trooper's-horse, for Cobham's dragoons 
seem to have been at Preston (' Diary of Lady Cowper,' 
1864, 188), 



192 Eighteenth- Century Stowe 

pute; after dinner, and at night, music and har- 
mony; in the garden, fishing; no politics and no 
cards, nor much reading. This agrees exactly 
with me ; for the want of cards sends us early to 
bed.' As to the garden, it 'is beyond all descrip- 
tion.' He is in it every hour but dinner and 
night, and every hour envying himself the delight 
because not partaken by his correspondent, who 
would see it better, ' Adieu,' he says at the close 
' I am going to the Elysian Fields [a part of the 
grounds], where I shall meet your idea ' — by 
which, no doubt, he means her Platonic arche- 
type. 

In the Epistle to Lord Burlington that satirizes 
the vacuous magnificence of ' Timon's villa ' at 
Edgware, Pope, by contrast, sketches at once the 
rival beauties of Stowe, and lays down the laws 
of landscape gardening: 

To build, to plant, whatever you intend, 
To rear the Column, or the Arch to bend, 
To swell the Terrace, or to sink the Grot; 
In all, let Nature never be forgot. 
But treat the Goddess like a modest fair, 
Nor over-dress, nor leave her wholly bare; 
Let not each Beauty ev'rywhere be spy'd, 
Where half the Skill is decently to hide. 
He gains all Points, who pleasingly confounds, 
Surprises, varies and conceals the Bounds. 



Eighteenth- Century Stowe 193 

Consult the Genius of the Place in all; 
That tells the Waters or to rise, or fall; 
Or helps th' ambitious Hill the heav'ns to scale, 
Or scoops in circling theatres the Vale; 
Calls in the Country, catches op'ning glades, 
Joins willing Woods, and varies shades from shades; 
Now breaks, or now directs, th' intending Lines; 
Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs. 

Still follow Sense, of ev'ry Art the Soul, 
Parts answ'ring parts shall slide into a whole, 
Spontaneous beauties all around advance. 
Start ev'n from Difficulty, strike from Chance ; 
Nature shall join you. Time shall make it grow 
A Work to wonder at — perhaps a Stowe. 

Two years later, in 1733, Pope inscribed to 
Cobham a special Epistle , ' On the Knowledge 
and Characters of Men,' afterwards printed as 
the first of the Moral Essays; and to this relate 
the only two letters from Lord Cobham to the 
poet which have been preserved. In both, Cobham 
shows the critical faculty with which Congreve 
had credited him; and Pope seems to have acted 
on his suggestions. ' As I remember, when I saw 
the " Brouillon " of this epistle,' writes Cobham, 
' it was perplexed ; you have now«made it the con- 
trary, and 1 think it isthe clearest and the cleanest^ 

' This is an odd word, and one almost fancies that 
RufFhead ('Life of Pope,' 1769, 275), who first printed 
these letters, mis-copied. 'Cleanest,' in the sense of least 
O 



194 Eighteenth-Century Stowe 

of all you have wrote. From a sentence in the 
second letter it would almost appear that Pope's 
famous Oldfield couplets (' Odious ! in woollen ! 
'twould a Saint provoke ! ') ' were the result of a 
hint by Cobham that the poet should introduce 
' an old Lady dressing her silver locks with pink, 
and ordering her coffin to be lined with white 
quilted sattin with gold fringes.' But the most 
material lines are those in which, by an adroit 
transition from censure to compliment, Pope con- 
cludes his impeachment of the ' ruling passion ' : 

And you! brave Cobham, to the latest breath, 
Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death : 
Such in those moments as in all the past, 
' Oh, save my Country, Heav'n! ' shall be your last. 

' Whatever were the precise last words of 

objectionable, is unlikely; and in the sense of 'clearest,* 
would be tautological. Can Cobham have written 'r/^i'^r^j/'? 
' It may be noted that the sentiments attributed to 
Mrs. Oldfield are but an echo of those of ' Lady Brump- 
ton' in Steele's 'Funeral,' 1701, a comedy in which Mrs. 
Oldfield had herself taken a minor part. Mme. de Sevigne, 
who objected to the Provencal method of burying with the 
hair dressed, and with the addition of a 'Fontange' or 
'Commode,' would not have agreed with Narcissa; ' Cela 
sent le paganisme!' she said. (Faguet's ' Sevigne,' p. 180.) 



Eighteenth- Century Stowe 195 

William Pitt,' says the Master of Peterhouse, 
'this was the spirit which dictated them.' ^ 

Pitt, Chesterfield, and Lyttelton, it has been 
said, were inmates of Cobham's temple of Friend- 
ship; and it is probable that some of the poet- 
frequenters of Stowe, especially if they belonged 
to the Leicester House faction, or shared the 
principles of the 'Boy Patriots,' followed in their 
train. James Hammond, who was one of the 
Prince of Wales' equerries, certainly visited at 
Stowe, since he died there in June 1742. He 
refers specifically to the place in one of his imita- 
tions of Tibullus : 

To Stowe's delightful scenes I now repair. 

In Cobham's smile to lose the gloom of care, — 

the 'care' being presumably that unrequited 
passion for an obdurate Neaera-Delia (Miss Kitty 
Dashwood) which was supposed to have shortened 
his life — either metaphorically or actually. In 
either case, although he died young, dissolution 
must have been dilatory, since there are ten years 
between the completion of his ' miserabiles elegos ' 
and the date of his consequent decease. Another 
guest and Leicester House adherent, mentioned 
by Horace Walpole, was Richard Glover, the 

^ ' Globe ' ' Pope,' p. 235 n. 



196 Eighteenth- Century Stowe 

first books of whose deep-mouthed and liberty- 
vaunting epic of 'Leonidas' were inscribed to 
Cobham ; and whose opportune ballad of ' Ad- 
miral Hosier's Ghost ' made Vernon's capture 
of Porto Bello at once a whip for the Prime 
Minister and a spur to the popular hatred of 
Spain. This latter performance, indeed, which 
survived the epic, and found its w^ay into the 
second volume of Percy's ' Reliques,' was actually 
composed at Stowe. 

Hammond was the protege of Chesterfield, 
who prefaced his posthumous poems. But after 
Pope, the greatest oi the Stowe minstrels was 
Thomson, whose particular patron was Lyttelton. 
In the earlier versions of 'The Seasons' there is 
no mention of Stowe; but when, about 1743, 
the author was revising that work, he not only 
inserted in 'Winter' passages relating to Chester- 
field and the recent death of Hammond, but 
added to ' Spring ' a long description of Hagley 
(Lyttelton's Worcestershire home), and to ' Au- 
tumn,' a corresponding glorification of Stowe, 
couched in terms which imply personal acquaint- 
ance both with its beauties and its inhabitants. 
' Oh ! lead me,' he exclaims to its garden gods, 

Oh! lead me to the wide extended walks, 
The fair majestic paradise of Stowe. 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 197 

Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore 
E'er saw such sylvan scenes; such various art 
By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed 
By cool judicious art; that, in the strife. 
All-beauteous Nature fears to be outdone. 

References to the temple of Virtue, the Elysian 
Fields, the 'enchanted round' (Bridgeman's 
walk ?) all point to an experimental knowledge 
of the locality, while there is express record of 
prolonged conversations with Pitt, and of the 
magnetism of the 

pathetic eloquence that moulds 
The attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts. 
Of honest zeal the indignant lightning throws. 
And shakes corruption on her venal throne. 

The closing lines, as is fitting, are devoted to 
the host: 

While thus we talk, and through Elysian vales 
Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes : 
What pity, Cobham! thou thy verdant files 
Of ordered trees shouldst heie inglorious range, 
Instead of squadrons flaming o'er the field. 
And long embattled hosts! when the proud foe. 
The faithless vain disturber of mankind, 
Insulting Gaul, has roused the world to war; 
When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
Those polished robbers, those ambitious slaves. 
The British youth would hail thy wise command. 
Thy tempered ardour and thy veteran skill. 



198 Eighteenth-Century Stowe 

In 1743 'insulting Gaul ' had been, or was 
soon to be, badly beaten by George II. at Det- 
tingen ; and for Field-Marshal Lord Cobham, at 
seventy-four years of age, although there were 
still honours, there could be little of arbori- 
culture save the ' hated cypresses ' of an older 
bard than Thomson.' Lord Cobham died in 
September 1749. Pope's quatrain, and part of 
his lines on Stowe, were duly transferred to the 
fluted column designed by James Gibbs to his 
lordship's memory, a column which not only 
testifies to his civil and military exploits, but 
adds that ' elegantiori Hortorum cultu His pri- 
mum in agris illustrato Patriam ornavit.' This, 
surmounted by a statue, was erected by Lady 
Cobham, who survived her husband until 1760. 
How long she continued to live at Stowe is not 
stated; but in the days of Gray's 'Long Story,' 
she was domiciled at the Manor House, Stoke 
Poges, which had belonged to her father, Edmond 
Halsey of Southwark. As Lord Cobham had no 
issue, the estate of Stowe reverted to his sister 
Hester, widow of Richard Grenville of Wotton- 

' ' Neque harum, quas colis, arborum 

Te praeter invisas cupressos 

Ulla brevem dominum sequetur.'" 
(' Hon,' ii, 14.) 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 199 

Underwood in Bucks, who was promptly created 
Countess Temple. She died in 1752, and was 
succeeded by her eldest son, Richard. Her only 
daughter, also Hester, became the wife of 
William Pitt the Elder, and her second son, 
George, was Prime Minister to George HI. Of 
the monument of another son, Thomas, the 
heroic captain of the ' Defiance,' an account has 
already been given; and of the remainder of the 
' mob of nephews,' in Walpole's disrespectful 
words, nothing more need be said. Earl Temple 
survived his Prime Minister brother, but dying 
childless in 1779, Stowe passed to that brother's 
eldest son George, who later became Marquess 
of Buckingham and married Mary Nugent, the 
daughter of Goldsmith's Lord Clare, by his third 
wife. With the Marquess of Buckingham we 
enter the nineteenth century, and cross the limits 
of our chronicle of Stowe. 

Whether Hester, Countess Temple, is respon- 
sible for any additions to the house or grounds, is 
not apparent. Her tenure of the place only lasted 
three years. Her son. Earl Temple, continued to 
carry out his uncle's designs, several of which 
had been originally planned by Kent. Such, for 
example, was the temple of Concord and Victory, 
an exact reproduction of the beautiful Roman 



200 Eighteenth-Century Stowe 

relic at Nimes known popularly as the Maison 
Carrie. Cobham's copy was completed in 1763, 
when it was made to serve as a memento of the 
English victories of the Seven Years' War — vic- 
tories which were profusely illustrated by appro- 
priate medallions. Other buildings were the 
Ladies' temple, also devised by Kent and eventu- 
ally dedicated to Queen Charlotte; the Gothic 
temple; the Palladian bridge, a reproduction of 
that of Inigo Jones at Wilton; the Doric arch in 
honour of the Princess Amelia, and the memorials 
to Cook and Wolfe. The former, dated 1778, 
stood on an islet in the Grotto River; the latter 
was in the Park, and bore the motto from Virgil 
which Gladstone later applied to Arthur Hallam, 
' Ostendunt terris hunc tantum Fata.' To the 
matter-of-fact reader, it may seem that the place 
must have looked a little like an over-monumented 
cemetery ; and indeed something of the kind is 
hinted by Horace Walpole, when, perhaps re- 
membering the Greek aphorism, he said para- 
doxically in 1753 that * half as many buildings, 
I believe, would be too many; but such a pro- 
fusion gives inexpressible richness.' A later 
visitor, Mrs. Lybbe Powys, speaking in 1775, is 
less ambiguous : ' The buildings [she writes] used, 
I know, to be thought too numerous, but in such 



Eighteenth-Century Stoive 201 

an extent I do not think even that, and the fine 
plantations now grown up to obscure them 
properly, must add infinitely to many picturesque 
views of porticoes, temples, &c., which when 
originally were expos'd at once, with perhaps three 
or four more seen from the same point, must have 
had a very different and crowded effect.' In re- 
gard to ' extent,' it must be explained that Stowe 
was larger than Kew Gardens by more than one 
hundred acres ; and. as Mrs. Lybbe Powys notes, 
the circuit of the grounds was ' a five-mile walk.' 
Even Walpole allows that the vastness pleased 
him more than he could defend.' 

He had been at Stowe on several occasions 
between 1753 and 1785, evidently with mixed 
feelings of interest in the spot and distaste for its 
owner — to say nothing of his own mutability of 
temperament. Naturally he was on the side of 
the landscapists, though he ridiculed the pre- 
mature commemoration of living notabilities. ' I 
will not,' he writes, ' place an ossuarium in my 

^ M. Pierre -Jean Grosley, of ' Londres,' who apparently 
went to Stowe in 1765 on the invitation of Lord Temple, 
mentions in his account one or two objects omitted in the 
above list, as Vanbrugh's pyramid, the fountain of Helicon, 
etc. At this date the Rotundo was occupied by a statue 
of Venus, and not, as later, by one of Bacchus (1771, iii, 
pp. 491-502). 



202 Eighteenth-Century Sfowe 

garden to my cat, before her bones are placed in 
it' — a palpable hit at certain significant changes 
in the tenants of the temple of Friendship. But 
for many of the buildings he had a genuine ad- 
miration. The temple of Ancient Virtue he calls 
* glorious.' ' This,' he says, ' I openly worship.' 
And, as might be expected from the Abbot of 
Strawberry, he was enraptured with the Gothic 
' pastiche,' parcel-Gothic though it were. ' In the 
heretical corner of my heart I adore the Gothic 
building, which by some unusual inspiration 
Gibbs has made pure and beautiful and venerable. 
The style has a propensity to the Venetian or 
mosque Gothic, and the great column near it 
[presumably the Cobham pillar, from which you 
could see into four counties] makes the whole 
put one in mind of the Place of St. Mark.' But 
his best account of Stowe is contained in the 
letter to Montagu referred to at the outset of this 
paper, written when he went with the Princess 
Amelia to visit Lord Temple. 

The party consisted of Her Royal Highness, 
an affable and talkative ' grande dame,' then in 
her sixtieth year ; two of her ladies-in-waiting. 
Lady Ann Howard and Mrs. Middleton; that 
pragmatic ' poseuse ' and royalty-hunter. Lady 
Mary Coke; Lord Bessborough, and Walpole. 




PRINCESS AMELIA'S ARCH AT STOWE 
(from the engraving by THOMAS MEDLAND) 



Eighteenth- Century Stowe 203 

Some of their diversions have already been de- 
scribed. But the main object of the expedition 
must have been to renew the Princess's acquaint- 
ance with the Doric Arch which specially con- 
cerned her. Walpole's picture of this is in his 
best manner : ' The chief entertainment of the 
week, at least what was so to the Princess, is an 
arch, which Lord Temple has erected to her 
honour in the most enchanting of all picturesque 
scenes. It is inscribed on one side "Amelia E 
SoPHiAE Aug. [mdcclxvii]," and has a medal- 
lion of her on the other. It is placed on an emi- 
nence at the top of the Elysian Fields, in a grove 
of orange-trees. You come to it on a sudden, 
and are startled with delight on looking through 
it: you at once see, through a glade, the river 
winding at the bottom; from which a thicket 
rises, arched over with trees, but opened, and dis- 
covering a hillock full of hay-cocks, beyond which 
in front is the Palladian bridge, and again over 
that a larger hill crowded with the castle [of 
Stowe]. It is a tall landscape framed by the arch 
and the over-bowering trees, aud comprehending 
more beauties of light, shade, and buildings, than 
any picture of Albano I ever saw. ' ^ 

' Between the flattery and the prospect,' he 
^ Toynbee's 'Walpole's Letters,' vii, 1904, 393. 



204 Eighteenth-Century Stowe 

goes on, 'the Princess was really in Elysium; 
she visited her arch four or five times every day, 
and could not satiate herself with it. The statues 
of Apollo and the Muses stand on each side. 
And then follows one of Walpole's verse tributes 
to the great lady's gratification. A week later 
comes the reverse of the medal. He is feeling 
twinges of gout and his retrospect is losing its 
rose-colour: 'I am come back very lame [he 
tells Lord Strafford], and not at all with the 
bloom that one ought to have imported from the 

Elysian Fields It made me laugh as we 

were descending the great flight of steps from 
the house to go and sup in the grotto on the 
banks of Helicon : we were so cloaked up, for 
the evening was very cold, and so many of us 
were limping and hobbling,' that Charon would 
have easily believed we were going to ferry over 
in earnest.' 

Three days later he is in bed, reposing not 

' Elsewhere he says: 'The Earl, you know, is bent 
double, the Countess very lame, I am a miserable walker, 
and the Princess, though as strong as a Brunswic lion, 
makes no figure in going down fifty stone stairs. Except 
Lady Ann — and by courtesy Lady Mary, we were none 
of us young enough for a pastoral.' (Toynbee's ' Wal- 
pole's Letters,' vii, 1904., 392.) 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 205 

* under his laurels,' but ' his own tester,' and re- 
flecting ruefully that he should die of fatigue if 
he were 'to be Polonius to a Princess for another 
week. Twice a day we made a pilgrimage to 
almost every heathen temple in that province 
that they call a garden, and there is no sallying 
out of the house without descending a flight of 
steps as high as St. Paul's. . . . To crown all, be- 
cause we live under the line, and that we were 
all of us giddy young creatures, of near threescore, 
we supped in a grotto in the Elysian Fields, and 
were refreshed with rivers of dew and gentle 
showers that dripped from all the trees, . . . Not 
but, to say the truth, our pagan landlord and 
landlady were very obliging, and the party went 
off much better than I expected.' If, as he says, 
he had no delight ' in the Seigneur Temple,' he 
liked Lady Temple; and had already printed 
some of her poems at the ' Officina Arbuteana.' ^ 
The 'flight of steps,' here twice mentioned, 
serves to conduct us at last from Stowe Gardens 
to Stowe House. To be precise, there were not 
fifty steps, as Walpole says, but thirty-one, and 
they were flanked at the base by pedestals bearing 
lions copied from those in the Villa Medici at 

^ ' Poems ' by Anna Chamber, Countess Temple, Straw- 
berry Hill, 1764. 



2o6 Eighteenth-Century Stowe 

Rome. Thence they ascended to a portico or 
loggia of six lofty Corinthian pillars supporting a 
pediment. To left and right of this central 
portion extended colonnades, ending in pavilion 
wings, the whole presenting a magnificent front- 
age of more than nine hundred feet, freely decor- 
ated with columns, statues, and medallions. This 
is the aspect which the south-east or garden front 
presents in Thomas Medland's print of 1797; 
and in general, it differs little from modern photo- 
graphs. The north-west view, or park facade, is 
less impressive. There is a second portico with 
four Ionic columns and a shorter flight of steps; 
and from this sweep out two circular colonnades, 
enclosing a wide gravelled space. The construc- 
tion of the entire building must have extended 
over a long period. The middle part was probably 
built first; a conjecture supported by Celia 
Fiennes, who, writing under William and Mary, 
speaks of going from Thornton to see the new 
house of ' S*" Rich^ Temple.' 1 This was the first 
of that name. Sir Richard Temple, the second 
(Lord Cobham), is said to have rebuilt the facade, 
and added, or added to, the wings. The original 
architect is nowhere distinctly named — most 
likely it was Vanbrugh. Throughout the entire 
' 'Through England on a Side Saddle,' 1888, 22. 



Eighteenth-Century Stowe 207 

eighteenth century one hears of continual additions 
and alterations, or the completion of decorations. 
When Mrs. Lybbe Powys visited the place in 
1775, reconstruction was still going on; and the 
house was surrounded by scaffolding. This was 
in Earl Temple's day; and further changes were 
made by the Marquess of Buckingham. Writing 
ten years later to Conway, Walpole continues to 
criticise fresh developments, and to comment on 
modifications in the wings. 

To the attentive student of the excellent plan 
and views which are contained in Seeley's charm- 
ing little quarto of 1797, dedicated floridly to 
George Grenville Nugent Temple, Marquess of 
Buckingham, the first thought will probably be 

' Thanks, sir,' cried I, ' 'tis very fine, 
But where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine ? 
I find, by all you have been telling, 
That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.' 

Swift's biting lines on Blenheim certainly apply 
in a sense to Stowe, as they do to other eighteenth- 
century mansions. Spacious ' rooms of state ' 
abound ; but the living accommodation is starved 
proportionately. All along the garden front are 
vast reception chambers. To left and right of the 
great oval saloon entered from the portico, with 
its splendid processional frieze, its choice statues. 



2o8 Eighteenth- Century Stowe 

and its Carrara marble pavement, these apartments 
open into each other to the farthest extremity of 
the wings; while on the northern side is a hall 
corresponding to the portico, and decorated by 
Kent with a ceiling which celebrates the martial 
exploits of Lord Cobham. There is a chapel 
wainscoted with cedar carved by Grinling Gibbons, 
and having a roof to match that of the Royal 
Chapel at St. James's; there are a library and 
ante-library filled with more than ten thousand 
volumes, chiefly collected by the Marquess of 
Buckingham; there is a ' Grenville Room ' ^ 
crowded with family portraits, some of them by 
Reynolds and Kneller, others by that clever 
amateur, the Marchioness. The great billiard 
room is filled with miscellaneous portraits. Van 
Dycks and Lelys and Gainsboroughs. In the 
dining and drawing rooms and state closet are 
famous Rembrandts and Rubens's, Claudes and 
Poussins, Titians and Leonardos, DUrers and 
Metzus. In other rooms are Gobelin tapestries 
— triumphs of Bacchus and Ceres, triumphs of 
the Allies in the Low Countries under Marl- 
borough : and everywhere there are busts, and 

^ Seeley's account of 1797 is here followed. In the Stowe 
auction catalogue of 1848 the rooms are differently named 
and disposed. 



Eighteenth- Century Stowe 209 

bronzes, and vases, and tables in ' verde antico ' ; 
sphinxes and sarcophagi; chests inlaid with mother 
of pearl and cunningly carved chimney-pieces; 
lustres and pier-glasses ; green damask and crimson 
velvet; 'china and old Japan infinite.' 

Such w^as ' eighteenth-century Stow^e.' Seen 
through the fine Corinthian arch at the north 
end of the two-mile avenue leading from Bucking- 
ham, the garden-front still presents to the latter- 
day spectator much the same aspect as it presented 
to his predecessor of a hundred years ago. But 
most of the valuable contents of the house enumer- 
ated above, together with other treasures added by 
later owners, were dispersed in the time of the 
second Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, at 
the great sale of 1 848, which lasted forty days, 
and realized more than seventy-five thousand 
pounds.^ After the death of the third and last 
Duke, Stowe House was leased to the Comte de 
Paris, who died there in September 1894. It be- 
longs at present to the last Duke's daughter, the 
eighth Baroness Kinloss. 

^ 'Stowe Catalogue,' by H. R. Forster, 1848. The 
Library and Manuscripts were sold separately in 184.9. 



ROBERT LLOYD 

ON the afternoon of Tuesday, 24th May 1 763, 
Boswell, for whose praiseworthy particu- 
larity we can never be sufficiently thankful, paid 
his first formal visit to Dr. Johnson at his 
Chambers in Inner Temple Lane. The incidents 
of this interview, which followed hard upon 
Boswell's presentation to his new friend in Davies' 
back-parlour, are sufficiently familiar. But as a 
preparatory 'wind-up' (in the sense of the elder 
Weller) to the altitude of the more important 
business to come, Boswell had taken the pre- 
caution of spending the morning in the stimulat- 
ing society of a little company of wits — ' Mes- 
sieurs Thornton, Wilkes, Churchill and Lloyd.' 
Wilkes, whose squinting portrait, sketched by 
Hogarth in Westminster Hall, was at this date 
only a few days old in the print shops; and 
Churchill, probably already meditating his retri- 
butory Epistle to the painter — require no intro- 
duction. Bonnell Thornton, late of the ' Con- 
noisseur,' was speedily to delight the visitors to 
Ranelagh with his burlesque of the Antient 



Robert Lloyd 2 1 1 

British Musick — that ' Ode on St. Caecilia's 
Day,' the Jews' harp and salt-box accompani- 
ment to which so hugely tickled the unmusical 
ear of Johnson. The fourth of the group, Robert 
Lloyd, the editor of the ' St, James's Magazine,' 
is less known. His brief career, soon to end pre- 
maturely in the Fleet prison, needs no Trusler to 
moralize its message. But his fate, deserved or 
undeserved, conveniently illustrates that lament- 
able ' Case of Authors by Profession or Trade ' 
which, not many years earlier, Fielding's colleague, 
James Ralph, had submitted to the consideration 
of an indifferent public.^ 

Lloyd's father, Dr. Pierson Lloyd, whom 
Southey describes not only as * a humourist,' but 
as 'a kind-hearted, equal-minded, generous, good 
man,' occupied honourably for some seven and 
forty years the posts of usher and second master 
at St. Peter's College, Westminster, otherwise 
Westminster School. His son Robert, born in 
1733, was admitted as a Queen's scholar in 1746, 
being then thirteen. Among his contemporaries 
were William Cowper, Charles Churchill, George 
Colman the Elder, Richard Cumberland, Warren 

^ Ralph's arguments were, in many respects, subse- 
quently enforced by Goldsmith's ' Enquiry into the Present 
State of Polite Learning in Europe.' 



212 Robert Lloyd 

Hastings and Elijah Impey. Another of his inti- 
mates in later life was Bonnell Thornton, who, 
in 1743, had been elected from Westminster to 
Christ Church, Oxford. During the first year of 
his school-days, the fifth form usher was that de- 
lightful, irresponsible, and indolent Vincent 
Bourne, so many of whose ' Poematia,' human 
and modern through all their elegant Latinity, 
Cowper, fondly ranking his old master with 
Tibullus and Ovid, was afterwards to render into 
excellent English. Young Lloyd had marked 
abilities; and speedily became a more than respect- 
able classical scholar. In 1751, he was captain of 
the school; and figured at the head of those elected 
to Trinity College, Cambridge. Of his university 
studies, there is little record; and his life, remote 
from the parental eye, is said to have been ex- 
travagant and ' irregular.' But he had already 
shown a bias towards verse. As early as 1751 he 
had written a long poem in the Spenserian stanza, 
entitled ' The Progress of Envy,' dealing allegoric- 
ally with Lauder's attack on the originality of 
Milton; and he must also have acquired some 
precocious reputation as an exceptionally fluent 
versifier, since, in 1754, Cowper addressed to him 
an Epistle in which, himself writing in octo- 
syllabics, he hails his old schoolfellow as 



Robert Lloyd 213 

sole heir, and single, 
Of dear Mat Prior's easy jingle; 

and even goes as far as to give him the praise, if 
not of superior finish, at least of superior facility.^ 
While Lloyd was still at Trinity, Thornton 
and Colman established the weekly paper known 
as the ' Connoisseur,' one of the brightest and 
most entertaining of the mid-century Essayists. 
Not many of its occasional writers are now knownj 
but Cowper certainly assisted, and so did Lloyd. 
Lloyd's first attempt, in May 1755, was an Epistle 
to a friend 'about to publish a Volume of Mis- 
cellanies,' in which, as introductory to some 
colloquial characterization of the leading models 
and a paradoxical commendation of Hawkins 
Browne's 'Pipe of Tobacco,' he warns his corre- 
spondent not to let his verse, 

^ Lloyd was sensible enough to disclaim this too friendly 
commendation. He knew he had not, as Johnson says of 
Butler and Prior, the ' bullion ' of his model ; and he 
frankly recognizes the fact in a later epistle on 'Rhyme' : 

' Here, by the way of critic sample, 
I give the precept and example. 
Four feet, you know, in ev'ry line 
Is Prior's measure, and is mine; 
Yet Taste wou'd ne'er forgive the crime 
To talk of mine with Prior's rhyme.' 



214 Robert Lloyd 

as verse now goes, 
Be a strange kind of measur'd prose; 
Nor let your prose, which sure is worse. 
Want nought but measure to be verse. 
Write from your own imagination, 
Nor curb your Muse by Imitation, 
For copies shew, howe'er exprest, 
A barren genius at the best. 

Another piece pleads urgently for some revolt 
against the depressing domination of the pedantic 
dullard. Not that its writer despises the great 
legislators of Parnassus : 

Although Longinus' full-mouthM^ prose 
With all the force of genius glows j . . . 
Though judgment, in Quintiiian's page. 
Holds forth her lamp for ev'ry age; 
Yet Hypercritics I disdain, 
A race of blockheads dull and vain, 
And laugh at all those empty fools, 
Who cramp a genius with dull rules, 
And what their narrow science mocks 
Damn with the name of Het'rodox. 

Two of his remaining contributions are fables; 
and there is an imitation of a Vauxhall song 
which effectively reproduces what Mrs. Riot in 

^ In No. 125 of the 'Connoisseur' ('British Classicks,' 
1788, vol. vi), quaintly enough, this is printed 'foul- 
mouthed.' 



Robert Lloyd 215 

Garrick's ' Lethe ' would call the ' very Quince- 
tence and Emptity ' of that popular form of art. 
The last paper has a prose introduction, dated 
from 'Trin. Coll. Can., June 6 [1756];' and 
contains a passage which may perhaps be regarded 
as autobiographical. Speaking of the Abuse of 
Words, the writer says : ' I myself. Sir, am griev- 
ously suspected of being better acquainted with 
Homer and Virgil than Euclid or Saunderson [the 
blind Professor of mathematics]; and am univers- 
ally agreed to be ruined^ for having concerned my- 
self with Hexameter and Pentameter more than 
Diameter.' From which, whatever significance 
be attached to the word ' ruined,' it may fairly be 
inferred that he shared with some greater men 
their distaste for mathematics. And if we are to 
believe Cowper, there had been too much classics 
and mathematics at Westminster, and too little 
religious instruction. 

When, in September 1756, ' Mr. Town ' of the 
' Connoisseur ' bade farewell to his public, he made 
due acknowledgment of the assistance he had re- 
ceived from his Cambridge contributor. Accord- 
ing to Welch's ' Alumni Westmonasterienses,' 
Lloyd ' took the two degrees in Arts in 1755 and 
1758.' But, apart from his literary pursuits, his 
university career, as we have said, had been 



2i6 Robert Lloyd 

unsatisfactory, and there was little likelihood of his 
obtaining a fellowship. To bring him once more 
under domestic supervision, his father, now second 
master, obtained for him the post of usher at his 
old school, a post for which, as far as scholarship 
was concerned, he was, natvu"ally, abundantly 
qualified. That the deadening drudgery of the 
life would not appeal to him, may perhaps be 
anticipated; and one remembers the heartfelt out- 
bursts of Goldsmith on this particular topic. ^ In 
Lloyd's ' Author's Apology,' afterwards printed 
at the head of his collected poems, he dwells 
bitterly on his memories: 

— Were I at once impower'd to shew 
My utmost vengeance on my foe, 
To punish with extremest rigour, 
I could invent no penance bigger 
Than using him as learning's tool 
To make him Usher of a school; 

the duties of which office, he says, 

but ill befit 
The love of letters, arts, or wit. . . . 
Better discard the idle whim, 
What 's He to Taste ? or Taste to Him ? 



^ 'Bee,' 1759, No- ^'5 'Vicar of Wakefield,' 1766, 
eh. XX. 



Robert L loyd 217 

For me, it hurts me to the soul 
To brook confinement or controul; 
Still to be pinion'd down to teach 
The syntax and the parts of speech ; 
Or, what perhaps is drudging worse, 
The links, and joints, and rules of verse j 
To deal out authors by resale 
Like penny pots of Oxford ale ; 
— Oh ! 'Tis a service irksome more 
Than tugging at the slavish oar. 

Yet such his task, a dismal truth, 
Who watches o'er the bent of youth ; 
And while, a paltry stipend earning. 
He sows the richest seeds of learning, 
And tills their minds with proper care, 
And sees them their due produce bear, 
No joys, alas ! his toil beguile. 
His o'wn lies fallow all the while. 

He admits that, before him, both Samuel Wesley 
and Vincent Bourne had contrived to double the 
parts of usher and author; but pleads his in- 
capacity to do likewise. Consequently, it was not 
long before he resigned his position; and, to his 
prudent father's distress, threw himself on letters 
for a livelihood. 

Granted his aversion from the calling which 
had been thrust upon him, it must be confessed 
that his desire to essay a more congenial, if more 



2 1 8 Robert Lloyd 

hazardous career, was not unintelligible. He had 
many friends in the writing world. Already, at 
Cambridge, he must have become a member of 
the select little ' Nonsense Club ' of old West- 
minsters which met weekly for literary purposes 
combined with conviviality. Of these, Cowper, 
who by this time had been called to the Bar, was 
one. Another was Cowper's lifelong friend, Joseph 
Hill, that ' honest man, close-button'd to the chin, 
Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within,' 
of whom he subsequently wrote.^ Then there 
were Bonnell Thornton and Colman, for whom 
he worked on the ' Connoisseur,' and Bensley, to 
whom from Cambridge he had addressed two 
epistles. From one of these it is clear that even 
in 1757, he had no illusions as to the traditional 
perils of a literary life: 

You say I shou'd get fame. I doubt it : 

Perhaps I am as well without it. 

For what 's the worth of empty praise ? 

What poet ever din'd on bays ? 

For though the Laurel, rarest wonder! 



^ Hill's unmarried sisters, Theodosia and Frances, figure 
as the ' Modern Antiques ' of Miss Mitford's ' Our Village.' 
According to Southey, they were inveterate sightseers, and 
supplied an illustrative note to Goldsmith's 'Essays' by 
sitting up all night Tor the Coronation of George III. 



Robert Lloyd 219 

May screen us from the stroke of thunder, 
This mind I ever was, and am in. 
It is no antidote to famine. 
And poets live on slender fare, 
Who, like Cameleons, feed on air, 
And starve, to gain an empty breath. 
Which only serves them after death. 

It is quite possible that the Epistle from which 
these lines are taken — lines the truth of which their 
writer was later to illustrate in his own person — 
was one of the Thursday contributions to the pro- 
ceedings of the ' Nonsense Club.' But the only- 
other pieces traditionally connected with it which 
survive, have a diflFerent origin. In August 1757, 
Walpole had ' snatched ' from Dodsley, as the 
first-fruits of the private press at Strawberry Hill, 
' two amazing Odes ' by Gray, subsequently en- 
titled ' The Progress of Poesy ' and ' The Bard.' 
' They are Greek, they are Pindaric, they are 
sublime!' wrote the enraptured Horace to his 
correspondent Mann ; but ' consequently,' he 
added, ' I fear a little obscure ' — an obscurity 
which, at first, Gray loftily refused to dispel. 
Under pressure, he appended four short notes to 
'The Bard'; but declared he would not have 
put another for 'all the owls in London.' His 
epigraph, ' (pmawa cruveToiai ' — ' vocal to the intelli- 



220 Robert Lloyd 

gent ' — was, he insisted, ' both his Motto and 
Comment.' This being so, it is perhaps not un- 
reasonable that the perplexed recipients of a dark 
saying should complain that it was hard to com- 
prehend; and the first readers of the Odes, Gold- 
smith among the rest, undoubtedly so complained. 
In 1760, following the ' Critical Review ' by fill- 
ing up Gray's motto with a qualifying clause 
which he had purposely withheld,^ namely — ' but, 
for the generality, requiring interpreters,' Lloyd 
and Colman set themselves light-heartedly to 
burlesque 'The Progress of Poesy' by an 'Ode 
to Obscurity,' and Mason's ' Ode to Memory ' 
by an ' Ode to Oblivion.' The former is some- 
times attributed to Colman; the latter to Lloyd; 
but on either side they were both admittedly 
'written in concert.' Here is the first strophe of 
the ' Ode to Obscurity ': 

Daughter of Chaos and old Night, 

Cinimeriam Muse, all hail ! 
That wrapt in never-twinkling gloom canst write, 

And shadowest meaning with thy dusky veil! 

^ In 1768, when James Dodsley reprinted Gray's poems, 
the author at last condescended, with subacid contrition, 
to add some explanatory notes, which include an analysis 
of ' The Progress of Poesy.' He also, in the circumstances, 
completed his original epigraph, the latter clause being 
then relevant. 



Robert Lloyd 22 1 

What Poet sings, and strikes the strings? 
It was the mighty Theban spoke. 
He from the ever-living Lyre 
With magic hand elicits fire. 

Heard ye the din of Modern Rhimers bray? 

It was cool M[i7Jo]n : or warm G[r«]y 
Involv'd in tenfold smoke. 

At this date it is needless to quote more. The 
parodies are certainly clever; they successfully 
reproduce some of the poet's peculiarities, as, for 
instance, his liking for compound epithets, and 
they could only have been written by scholars. 
But Gray's unrivalled Pindaric Odes are still 
babbled by schoolboys ' in extremis vicis,' while 
the caricatures of Lloyd and Colman, notwith- 
standing Southey's fantastic proposal that they 
should form a standing appendix to their models, 
have now to be sought for in charitable anthologies. 
Meanwhile, it is interesting to note with what 
diversity of welcome they were received by Gray's 
contemporaries. To Warburton they were but 
miserable buffoonery; to Walpole (friend of both 
Gray and Mason) ' trash, spirted from the kennel.' 
On the other hand, Johnson, who preferred Gray's 
life to his Muse, would have agreed with Southey. 
' A considerable part ' of the ' Ode to Obscurity ' 
might, he declared, ' be numbered among those 
felicities which no man has twice attained.' It 



222 Robert Lloyd 

was the better of the two, he told Boswell on 
another occasion; but they were both good. 'They 
exposed a very bad kind of writing.' As for Adam 
Smith's 'canard,' that Gray was so much hurt 
' that he never afterwards attempted any consider- 
able work,' the latter assertion is obviously in- 
correct, while the former is not supported by Gray's 
correspondence. Where Gray understands his 
assailant, he agrees that his assailant ' makes very 
tolerable fun with him,' though he thinks there 
is more anger with Mason (to whom he is writ- 
ing). Elsewhere he says of Colman, then the 
reputed sole author, 'I believe his Odes sell no 
more than mine did, for I saw a heap of them lie 
in a Bookseller's window, who recommended 
them to me as a very pretty thing.' It is only fair 
to add that Colman and Lloyd afterwards very 
frankly recanted to Joseph Warton; and that one 
of Lloyd's most ambitious Latin imitations was 
a version of the ' Elegy.' He also specially refers 
to Gray in his Epistle to Churchill: 

What Muse like Gray's shall pleasing pensive flow, 
Attemper'd sweetly to the rustic woe? 
Or who like him shall sweep the Theban lyre, 
And, as his master, pour forth thoughts of fire? 

When the ' Nonsense Club ' was first estab- 



Robert Lloyd 223 

lished is not apparent, nor is it clear when it 
broke up, though Southey supposes that its dis- 
persion followed upon the defection of Cowper a 
year or two later. But almost concurrently with 
the burlesque Odes, to be exact, a few weeks 
before, Lloyd had issued, in the form of an ad- 
dress to Bonnell Thornton, his first considerable 
poem, 'The Actor,' an effort of which the 
' Gentleman's Magazine ' affirmed that 'the Poetry 
would have pleased, even without the Sentiment, 
and the Sentiment without the Poetry.' It is, in 
truth, the most serious of Lloyd's efforts. Its 
heroics, for he deserts on this occasion his usual 
octo-syllabics, are neatly wrought; it wisely 
avoids the criticism of living people by name, 
paying only careful compliments to Garrick ; and 
it lays its finger upon several obvious stage errors. 
In action it upholds nature as opposed to tradi- 
tion ; puts (with the late M. Coquelin) the 
modulation of the voice before excessive gesture, 
and condemns those popular starts and attitudes 
which Goldsmith had just been ridiculing in his 
' Chinese Letters.' ^ Further, it deplores the ' vile 
stage-custom ' which ' drags private foibles on the 
public scene,' a palpable hit at Foote, and cen- 
sures generally over-acting, tricks of dress, 
^ 'Public Ledger,' March 21, 1760, 



224 Robert Lloyd 

ghosts, and the absurd entertainments of pan- 
tomime. Finally, it takes leave with a graceful 
lament over the perishable character of the his- 
trionic art: 

Yet, hapless Artist ! tho' thy skill can raise 

The bursting peal of universal praise, 

Tho' at thy beck Applause delighted stands, 

And lifts, Briareus-like, her hundred hands, 

Know, Fame awards thee but a partial breath! 

Not ail thy talents brave the stroke of death. 

Poets to ages yet unborn appeal, 

And latest times th' Eternal Nature feel. 

Tho' blended here the praise of bard and play'r, 

While more than half becomes the Actor's share, 

Relentless death untwists the mingled fame, 

And sinks the player in the poet's name. 

The pliant muscles of the various lace. 

The mien that gave each sentence strength and grace, 

The tuneful voice, the eye that spoke the mind, 

Are gone, nor leave a single trace behind. 

Gibber's ' Apology ' is credited with the germ- 
inal form of this somewhat self-evident truth. In 
1 766, half-a-dozen years later, Garrick compressed 
it into a well-known couplet of his Prologue to 
the 'Clandestine Marriage';^ and Sheridan, with 
much facile ' fioriture,' included it in that 

* Nor Pen nor Pencil can the Actor save \ 

The Art, and Artist, share one common Grave. 



Robert Lloyd 225 

'Monody' which was spoken by Mrs. Yates at 
Drury Lane, on the great actor's death. But it 
was Lloyd who first elaborated the idea. Its latest 
form, as regards the vocalist, is to be found in 
de Musset's admirable ' Stances a la Mali bran.' 

With Lloyd's judicious commendation of the 
autocrat of Drury Lane must no doubt be con- 
nected the performance, at that theatre, of his 
Ode on the death of George II, entitled the 
'Tears and Triumph of Parnassus,' 1760, to be 
succeeded, in the following year, by the dramatic 
pastoral of 'Arcadia; or, the Shepherd's Wed- 
ding,' in honour of the august nuptials of Charlotte 
of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and George III. Both 
of these occasional, and nowise remarkable, pro- 
ductions had the advantage of the music of John 
Stanley, the blind organist of the Temple Church. 
Lloyd also supplied Garrick with several pro- 
logues: for the King's birthday; for Colman's 
'Jealous Wife' (in which he seems to glance at 
the author's obligations to Fielding's 'Tom 
Jones ') ; and for the ' Hecuba ' of Miss Burney's 
eccentric Brighton friend, Dr. John Delap. But 
the most definite and important outcome of ' The 
Actor ' was, unquestionably, ' The Rosciad ' of 
Charles Churchill. Disqualified for a university 
career by an early and imprudent Fleet marriage, 
Q 



226 Robert Lloyd 

Churchill, by ' need, not choice,' had been lead- 
ing a precarious life on the ' forty pounds a year ' 
of a country living, eked out by tuition. In 1758, 
at his father's death, he had been elected, by 
favour of the parishioners, to the curacy and 
lectureship of St. John the Evangelist, West- 
minster. Dr. Pierson Lloyd, his former master, 
had helped him more than once in money diffi- 
culties, as Churchill afterguards acknowledged/ 
by mediating with his creditors ; and Robert 
Lloyd, unhappily for himself, was also warmly 
attached to his old class-mate. The favourable 
reception of 'The Actor' roused the dormant 
faculties of Churchill, whose first metrical essays 
were unfortunate. A Hudibrastic poem called 
' The Bard ' was declined by the booksellers as 
worthless ; a second, ' The Conclave,' satirizing 
the Dean (Dr. Zachary Pearce) and Chapter of 
Westminster, was regarded as too libellous for 
publication. But in these tentative efforts, Churchill 
had found his strength ; and for a fresh subject 
he selected the Stage, in which he had always 
been interested. * After two months' close attend- 

' Dr. Lloyd was the ' kind good man ' of ' The Con- 
ference/ who, 

' Image of him whom Christians should adore, 
Stretch'd forth his hand, and brought me safe to shore.' 



Robert Lloyd 227 

ance on the theatres,' he completed *The Rosciad.' 
Even for this he was refused the trifling fee of 
five guineas. Thereupon he boldly issued the 
poem at his ow^n expense. 

The result in the theatrical world has been 
aptly compared to that caused by the discharge of 
a gun in a rookery. Churchill being utterly un- 
known, the anonymous writer was at first sup- 
posed to be Lloyd, assisted possibly by Thornton 
and Colman ; but apart from the fact that one of 
the most serious passages in the piece, a plea for 
the moderns against the ancients, is placed in 
Lloyd's mouth, the ascription showed little critical 
acuteness. There was no resemblance whatever 
between Lloyd's easy generalities and the direct 
cudgel-play of his more fearless friend. Such 
lines as 

He mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone, 

which is said to have driven Davies from the 
boards to the book-shop; the remorseless 

Pritchard's for Comedy too fat and old; 

and the 

Mossop, attach'd to military plan, 

Still kept his eye fix'd on his right-hand man, 

were, compared with Lloyd, as the roaring of the 



228 Robert Lloyd 

tiger to that of the sucking dove ; and neither the 
dove nor the tiger was at first particularly pleased 
by the turn vs^hich things had taken. Churchill, 
how^ever, in the second edition, openly claimed 
the authorship: and, in a shorter poem entitled 
' The Apology,' proceeded, with an energy which 
left no doubt as to his staying power as a satirist, 
to trounce his chief assailant, the ' Critical Re- 
view,' then edited by Smollett; while Lloyd's 
affectionate and unenvious nature speedily forgot 
its own annoyance in admiration for the superior 
gifts of his friend — gifts to which, moreover, he 
paid admiring homage in more than one epistle : 

Pleas'd I behold superior genius shine. 

Nor ting'd with envy wish that genius mine. 

To Churchill's muse can bow with decent awe, 

Admire his mode, nor make that mode my law; 

Both may, perhaps, have various pow'rs to please : 

Be his the Strength of Numbers, mine the Ease. 

Elsewhere, in * The Poet,' Lloyd draws 
Churchill's portrait with all the fervency of 
friendly enthusiasm : 

Is there a man, whose genius strong 
Rolls like a rapid stream along, 
Whose Muse, long hid in chearless night, 
Pours on us like a flood of light, 
Whose acting comprehensive mind 
Walks Fancy's regions, unconfin'd j 



Robert Lloyd 229 

Whom, nor the surly sense of pride. 

Nor affectation, warps aside; 

Who drags no author from his shelf. 

To talk on with an eye to self; 

Careless alike, in conversation, 

Of censure, or of approbation ; 

Who freely thinks, and freely speaks. 

And meets the Wit he never seeks; 

Whose reason calm, and judgment cool. 

Can pity, but not hate a fool; 

Who can a hearty praise bestow, 

If merit sparkles in a foe; 

Who bold and open, firm and true, 

Flatters no friends — yet loves them too : 

Churchill will be the last to know 

His is the portrait, I would show. 

By ' The Rosciad ' and ' The Apology ' 
Churchill made more than a thousand pounds, 
with which, to his credit, he paid his debts. But 
at this stage, discarding first his clerical garb for 
gold lace and ruffles, and next, for he resigned his 
cure, his clerical character, he unhappily em- 
barked with all the ardour of a vigorous constitu- 
tion, upon those pleasures of the town which, in 
the measured words of Gibbon, ' are within the 
reach of every man who is regardless of his 
health, his money, and his company.' Into the 
train of this worst of Mentors, Lloyd, docile and 
unstable, was only too readily drawn ; and 



230 Robert Lloyd 

people who were still smarting from the strokes of 
Churchill's criticism, were not slow to comment 
upon such unworshipful developments of literary 
success. As may be imagined, the tale lost no- 
thing in the telling; and it is quite conceivable, 
as suggested by William Tooke, the earliest 
editor of Churchill, that irregularities which, in 
some of his contemporaries, would have passed 
unnoticed, or been indulgently condoned as mere 
eccentricities of genius, were magnified by the 
victims of his pen into acts of unbridled de- 
pravity. More thin-skinned than most satirists — 
which is saying a good deal — Churchill bitterly 
resented this inquisition into his ' midnight con- 
versations'; and, in a poem called ' Night,' ad- 
dressed to Lloyd, endeavoured to defend himself 
against his traducers. But his defence, based upon 
the then-current fallacy that honest vices are 
more excusable than hypocritical virtues — as if, 
says a modern critic, there were no possible third 
course — is not convincing; while it seems be- 
sides to indicate incidentally that the 'sons of 
Care,' as they curiously styled themselves, did 
not always derive from their dissipations the dis- 
traction they sought. Nor is the later apology of 
their boon-companion and evil-genius, Wilkes, 
drawn speciously from the precedents of anti- 



Robert Lloyd 231 

quity, any more to the point. Of Wilkes, how- 
ever, we may safely say, ' Non tali auxilio'; and, 
moreover, we are not writing, nor design to 
write, a paper on Churchill, being, for the pre- 
sent, busied only with his friend Lloyd. 

Lloyd, unlike Churchill, had not found verse 
a monetary success; and although he never at 
any time overcame his rooted antipathy to tui- 
tion, he must also have soon discovered that one 
form of servitude was no better than another; 
and that by octo-syllabics, however easily they 
jingled, it was difficult to live. His prologues 
and theatrical pieces can have produced but little. 
For some months previous to the appearance of 
' Arcadia,' he had been acting as editor of the 
poetical department of ' The Library,' a periodi- 
cal conducted by Dr. Andrew Kippis, later to be 
better known as projector of an interrupted 'Bio- 
graphia Britannica.' Lloyd's connection with 
'The Library' lasted until May 1762, when he 
issued a quarto volume of ' Poems ' including 
'The Actor,' the Epistle to Churchill, the Burl- 
esque Odes, and a number of minor pieces. 
From the lengthy list of subscribers,^ it would 

^ Besides the ' great vulgar and the small,' many notable 
names appear in its columns. Not to mention Henry Fox 
and Charles Townshend and Richard Owen Cambridge, 



232 Robert Lloyd 

seem that this collection should have been the 
most lucrative of his publications ; but although 
he appears to have aWays performed his daily 
task with mill-horse regularity, it is clear that his 
gains, as a man of vi^it, never sufficed to his ex- 
penditure as a man of pleasure, and that from the 
outset he vv^as embarrassed. With September 
1762 he issued the first number of the ' St. 
James's Magazine,' Davies being one of the pub- 
lishers. Of course it was to be like nothing else. 
It was to deal exclusively with Belles Lettres. It 
was to be original and various; it was to be 
scholarly; it was to be soundly critical. The 
hackeyed attractions of the ordinary monthly 

there is ' Mr. Samuel Johnson ' (he was not yet Doctor) ; 
there are ' William Hogarth, Esq ; ' (to whom Lloyd had 
addressed a laudatory epistle concerning ' Sigismunda'), 
and Messieurs Reynolds and Wilson, 'Painters '5 there is 
the sculptor, Roubillac. There are Newbery and Dodsley, 
booksellers; there are those curious clergymen, the Rev. 
Charles Churchill and the Rev. Laurence Sterne ; there 
are Garrick and Foote, and Cowper and Akenside, and 
the two Wartons, and Laureate Whitehead. For Gray 
and Mason and Horace Walpole it would be idle to seek. 
Whether all the names meant money, it is hard to affirm. 
Six months later, the book was still announced in the 
' St. James's Magazine ' as 'just published ' ; and Kenrick, 
Lloyd's editor, says in 1774. that a remainder had been 
' lately disposed of at an inconsiderable value.' 



Robert Lloyd 233 

were to be studiously avoided. It would contain 

No pictures taken from the life, 

Where all proportions are at strife; 

No Humming-Bird, no painted Flower, 

No Beast just landed in the Tower, 

No wooden Notes, no colour'd Map, 

No Country-Dance shall stop a gap; .... 

No Crambo, no Acrostic fine,"; 

Great letters lacing down each line; 

No strange Conundrum, no invention 

Beyond the reacli of comprehension, 

No Riddle, which whoe'er unties. 

Claims twelve Museums for the Prize, 

Shall strive to please you, at th' expence 

Of simple taste, and common sense. 

Some of these promises were kept, but even 
in the first number there was departure from the 
programme, inasmuch as its final pages were oc- 
cupied by an account, ' lifted ' bodily from the 
' London Gazette,' and certainly not Belles 
Lettres, of the great event of 1762, the taking of 
the Havannah from the Spaniards, with other oc- 
currences, Foreign and Domestic. As usual, the 
editor had many disappointments from the ' emin- 
ent hands ' who had promised their assistance. 
Churchill, whose fast-following productions were, 
with copious extracts, rapturously reviewed, sent 
nothing J and Garrick is only represented by a 



234 Robert Lloyd 

prologue and epilogue. On the other hand, 
Cowper contributed an ironical ' Dissertation on 
the Modern Ode'; and also, it is supposed, a 
subsequent exemplification of it, though this is 
initialed ' L,' and may have been by Lloyd. ^ 
From the introductory remarks, Cowper, it would 
seem, had contemplated an Art of Poetry on the 
same plan ; but his intentions were prevented by 
that second derangement to which belong those 
terrible Sapphics beginning ' Hatred and venge- 
ance, my eternal portion.' From Falconer of 
' The Shipwreck ' came ' The Fond Lover ' a 
song * written at sea,' and dated ' Royal George'; 
from Christopher Smart, a eulogistic epitaph on 
Fielding, and a fable." Bonnell Thornton sent, 

^ Southey thought it by Cowper, and Mr. H. S. Milford, 
though not without hesitation, includes it in his excellent 
Oxford edition of that poet, pp. 288-9. The form resembles 
Mason's, and it is possible that the following lines are 
obliquely aimed at him : 

' Come placid Dullness, gently come, 

And all my faculties benumb. 
Let thought turn exile, while the vacant mind 
To trickle words, and pretty phrase confin'd. 

Pumping for trim description's art, 

To win the ear, neglects the heart.' 

^ One of the occasional contributions (which must have 
issued from the shades) consists of two Greek epigrams by 



Robert Lloyd 235 

among other things, some specimens of an in- 
tended translation of Plautus, being portions of 
the 'Miles gloriosus,' a task to which he had 
been stirred by emulation of Colman's Terence. 
Colman again, copying Lloyd's own epistle from 
the Cobbler of Tissington to Garrick, pens a 
companion letter to Lloyd himself, in which, with 
great good humour, and no little truth, he rallies 
his old schoolfellow for trusting overmuch to his 
metrical facility. He warns him that if he 'cramps 
his Muse in four-foot verse,' he will ultimately 
find ' his ease his curse.' Why does he not ' write 
a great work! a work of merit'? Otherwise, 

Too long your genius will lie fallow 

And Robert Lloyd be Robert Shallow. 

The advice was more easy to give than to 
take, especially by an editor whose contributors 
were voluntary ; and who, in their default, was 
pledged to fill five sheets per month with printed 

Fielding's ' Parson Adams,' then the late Rev. William 
Young of Gillingham. Another writer adapts to the 
memory of Shenstone, who died in February 1763, his 
own epitaph — the 'most beautiful of epitaphs,' Landor 
calls it — on his cousin, Maria Dolman — ' Ah ! Gulielme, 
Vale ! " Quanto minus est. Cum aliis versari, Quam tui 
meminisse." ' 



236 Robert Lloyd 

matter, and that matter more verse than prose. 
No wonder Lloyd was weary of the task, and 
had already written: 

Continual plagues my soul molest, 

And Magazines disturb my rest. 

While scarce a night I steal to bed. 

Without a couplet in my head, 

And in the morning, when I stir. 

Pop comes a Deojil, ' Copy, sir.' 

I cannot strive with daring flight 

To reach the brave Parnassian Height, 

But at its foot, content to stray. 

In easy unambitious way 

Pick up those flowers the muses send, 

To make a nosegay for my friend. 

One of his most assiduous colleagues, a certain 
equally facile but forgotten rhymer, Mr. Charles 
Denis, who was a brother of the famous admiral 
and patron of Thackeray's ' Denis Duval,' fur- 
nished translations of La Fontaine, Marmontel, 
Voltaire, Boileau and other versions or paraphrases 
from the French. Lloyd himself padded his pages 
with a long prose rendering of the ' Nouvelle 
Ecole des Femmes ' of M. Moulier de Moissy, his 
ostensible pretext being to show to what extent 
Churchill's enemy, Arthur Murphy, had relied 
upon that comedy for his own piece, ' The Way 



Robert Lloyd 237 

to Keep Him.' There are also ominous proposals 
for a complete translation of Racine, to be pub- 
lished as a monthly make-weight. Lloyd seems 
to have struggled doggedly with his ' metier de 
format,' for he says in his general Preface to vol. i, 
that he is personally responsible for upwards of 
seven hundred lines in every number; but it cannot 
be denied that he is often open to the charge of 
being * shallow.' He nevertheless shows constant 
capabilities for better things. One of his dia- 
logues, ' Chit-chat,' is a bourgeois paraphrase of 
the ' Two Ladies of Syracuse ' in Theocritus. 
A Cheapside Gorgo and Praxinoe, Mrs. Brown 
and Mrs. Scot, go (in their sacks and cardinals) to 
see, not the Adonis festival, but that memorable 
contemporary show, the opening of Parliament 
by George III, with the gingerbread splendours 
of whose state-coach, recently designed by 
Chambers the Architect, they are duly impressed. 
The close imitation of an original demands a 
certain restraint, which was good for Lloyd; 
and though it is not easy to select a quotation, 
' Chit-chat ' is a very satisfactory specimen of his 
better manner. But long before the ' St. James's 
Magazine ' had reached its closing blue numbers, 
that ill-fated serial was plainly, in its projector's 
words, dragging out 



238 Robert Lloyd 

a miserable being, 
Its end still fearing and foreseeing; 

and when, in February 1764, the long-threatened 
end came, Lloyd had for some time surrendered 
the work to other hands, and was himself, *for 
debts contracted during its progress,' an inmate 
of the Fleet. 

What his liabilities were we know not; but 
they need not have been large. In those days, in 
spite of Oglethorpe's Committee, a beneficent 
legislature still permitted a vindictive creditor to 
seize the body of an unhappy debtor for a trifling 
sum, casting him into a custody from which he 
might never again emerge;^ and, as we know 
from Johnson's * Rambler,' the Fleet, the King's 
Bench and the other prisons, were at this date 
crowded with many such miserable captives, who 
were exposed to all the discomforts arising from 
dirt, disease, foul air, bad food, and the grinding 
rapacity of tyrannical keepers. Why Lloyd, 
whose father was still a master at Westminster 

^ But I liave also heard a sweet Bird sing, 

That Men, unable to discharge their Debts 

At a short Warning, being sued for them. 

Have, with both Power and Will their Debts to pay, 

Lain all their Lives in Prison for their Costs, 

Fielding's Pasquin, 1736, 



Robert Lloyd 239 

School, was suflFered to remain for a moment in 
such a degrading environment, may perhaps be 
explained by the supposition that, freed by one 
claimant, he would only be arrested by another ; 
and that, while he remained in the Fleet, or the 
limits known as its Rules or Liberties, he could 
not be arrested at all. Churchill, on hearing of 
his incarceration, at once hastened to his assist- 
ance, and provided for his immediate wants by 
supplying him with a servant and a guinea a week. 
This sum (unless it was spent as promptly as the 
similar allowance made to Richard Savage) should 
have sufficed to save Lloyd from the squalors of 
* Mount-scoundrel,' and to secure him decent 
food and lodgment. Churchill also attempted to 
set on foot a subscription for his eventual release. 
But from mismanagement, or other causes now 
too obscure to make intelligible, the proposals 
came to nothing; and Lloyd remained in durance, 
receiving numerous visitors, though apparently 
abandoned by most of his old associates. ' I have 
many acquaintances,' he wrote mournfully to 
Wilkes in France, ' but now no friends here.' 
He continued to drudge hopelessly for the book- 
sellers, finishing a version of Klopstock's *■ Death 
of Adam '; translating, with Charles Denis, Mar- 
montel's * Contes Moraux ' ; and endeavouring to 



240 Robert Lloyd 

console himself philosophically by the reflection 
that irksome as confinement was, it was * not so 
bad as being usher at Westminster.' He even 
produced ' The Capricious Lovers,' a little comic 
opera from the French of Favart's * Ninette a la 
Cour,' which Garrick accepted for Drury Lane. 
On 4th November 1764 Churchill, who in his 
' Independence ' ^ made indignant reference to 
Lloyd's continued confinement, ended his own 
meteoric course at Boulogne, where he died of 
fever. The rest may be told in Southey's words: 
' Lloyd had been apprised of his [Churchill's] 
danger; but when the news of his death was 
somewhet abruptly announced to him as he was 
sitting at dinner, he was seized with a sudden 
sickness, and saying, "I shall follow poor 
Charles," took to his bed, from which he never 
rose again ; dying, if ever man did, of a broken 
heart. The tragedy did not end here; Churchill's 
favourite sister, who is said to have possessed 
much of her brother's sense and spirit and genius, 
and to have been betrothed to Lloyd, attended 
him during his illness; and, sinking under the 
double loss, soon followed her brother and her 
lover to the grave.' 

^ * Hence, Ye vain Boasters, to the Fleet repair, 
And ask, with blushes ask, if Lloyd is there.' 



Robert Lloyd 241 

When Robert Lloyd was buried in the church- 
yard of St. Bride's parish he was thirty-one, and 
his premature end is sad enough. At the same 
time, it is impossible to give to the tale of his 
misfortunes more than the commiseration usually 
conceded to those who, in common parlance, are 
* nobody's enemy but their own.' The record of 
his personality is scant and indistinct. He is said 
to have been modest, affectionate, generous, and 
devoted to those he liked. Truth constrains us to 
add that he was also weak-willed, fond of pleasure, 
and easily led away by companions whose social 
gifts were not ballasted with more solid merits. 
As a poet, either from lack of ambition, or from 
a conscious sense of limitation, he never fulfilled 
the promise of his youth. He was a sound 
scholar, without the least touch of pedantry ; he 
had a fertile fancy, considerable humour, and 
an excellent judgment. The too-ready fluency on 
which he so much relied was nevertheless un- 
favourable to 'fundamental brain-work'; and 
the pressure of necessity frequently hurried him 
into reckless over-production. Hence, in a short 
paper, it is difficult to borrow from his work 
more than a few autobiographical and literary 
passages. His melancholy story exemplifies most 
of those ills which his great contemporary had 
R 



242 Robert Lloyd 

gloomily declared to be the allotted portion of 
letters : 

Toil, Envy, Want, the Patron and the Jail, 

But he was spared the Patron. 



GRAY'S BIOGRAPHER 

CONNECTED with Mason's ' Memoirs of 
the Life and Writings of Gray ' is one of 
those odd freaks of circumstance by which the 
whirligig of Time occasionally diverts the philo- 
sophic inquirer. Dr. Johnson was a Tory; 
Mason was a Whig — therefore Johnson did not 
like Mason. Johnson, moreover, did not like 
Gray, whom, in conversation, he bracketed with 
Mason as inferior to Akenside; and this was 
another reason why he was prejudiced against 
Mason's biography of Gray. Consequently, one 
is not surprised to learn that, though he forced 
himself to read the book because it was ' a com- 
mon topick of conversation,' he found it ' mighty 
dull.' ' As to the style (he added), it was fit for 
the second table ' — a figure of disparagement 
which is included, though not explained, in Dr. 
Birkbeck Hill's list of ''Dicta Philosophi.' But 
the piquant point about the great man's judg- 
ment is, that it was this very life of Gray by 
Mason which Boswell made his model for what 
Macaulay has called, on this occasion without 
243 



244 Gray's Biographer 

contradiction, the first of all biographies. 'I have 
resolved,' says Boswell in his introductory pages, 
' to adopt and enlarge upon the excellent plan of 
Mr. Mason in his Memoirs of Gray ' — in other 
vv^ords, to intersperse the text with letters which 
exhibit the man. 'I am absolutely certain,' he 
had already written to his friend Temple, ' that 
my mode of biography, which gives ... a view 
of his [Johnson's] mind in his letters and con- 
versations, is the most perfect that can be con- 
ceived.' Thus the book that Johnson found 
' mighty dull,' supplied the proximate pattern for 
Bos well's masterpiece; and as Horace Walpole 
was not slow to perceive, marked the starting 
point of a new departure in literary portraiture. 
While rejoicing — for Walpole too had views on 
style — that the *■ Memoirs ' did not imitate ' the 
teeth-breaking diction of Johnson,' he wrote on 
its first appearance in 1775 that Mts merit did 
not depend on the competence of the present 
age.' ' You have,' he told Mason, ' fixed the 
method of biography, and whoever will write a 
life well must imitate you.' Walpole's precept 
and the practice of Boswell fairly justify some 
brief parley with that now occulted ' Person of 
Importance in his Day ' — Gray's biographer. 
For, although in our time the Rev. William 



Gray's Biographer 245 

Mason, Rector of Aston and Precentor of the 
Cathedral Church of St. Peter in York, is ahnost 
entirely forgotten, in his own he was undoubtedly 
a ' person of importance.' Even Hartley Cole- 
ridge, who has written of him at large in the 
' Northern Worthies,' more, it is to be suspected, 
because he came within the scheme of that 
Boreal Biography than from any special admira- 
tion for his character and achievement, is con- 
strained to admit that, besides being the friend 
and biographer of Gray, he was, at the time of 
writing, ' the most considerable poet that York- 
shire had produced since Marvell,' and the hun- 
dred-page estimate winds up with the statement 
that ' for many years of his life he was England's 
greatest living poet.' This latter, to be sure, is not 
saying much, though it is difficult to dispute it. 
Mason was a placid, amiable, well-educated man, 
and also a highly-respectable specimen of the com- 
fortably-beneficed ecclesiastic of that apathetic 
Georgian epoch, when, it has been said, little re- 
mained in the larger part of the English Church 
but ' a decorous sense of duty and a sleepy routine 
of practice.' His clerical functions left him ample 
leisure for ' Shakespeare and the musical glasses '; 
and his literary tastes secured him the friendship 
of Gray and Walpole, of whom he was the 



246 Gray's Biographer 

diligent correspondent. Without exceptional ima- 
gination, he had considerable facility and metrical 
accomplishment. He wrote elegies and Pindaric 
odes, tragedies on Greek models with English 
subjects, satires which are neat but not deadly, 
and blank verses on gardening — in all of which 
he ' neither sinks nor soars.' ^ Most of his work 
is difficult reading now, although we know one 
septuagenarian who remembers studying ' Car- 
actacus ' in his boyhood with romantic interest; 
and we have little doubt that ladies of quality 
once wept as freely over ' Elfrida ' as did Lady 
Hervey over Home's ' Douglas ' or Lady Brads- 
haigh over Richardson's *• Clarissa.' But it would 
need complicated hydraulics to extract a solitary 
tear of sensibility from the present generation. 
Autres temps, autre s pleurs I 

However this may be, the ' rural Pan ' of the 
period (doubtless a Pan in a Periwig!) appears to 
have ' breathed ' benignly on the ' helpless cradle ' 
of the future author of ' The English Garden.' 

^ Mason himself professed to claim no more than this : 

' So, through life's current let me glide, 

Nor sink too loav, nor rise too high. 
Sate if Content my progress guide, 
And golden Mediocrity.'' 
But we must not take modesty too much at its word. 



Gray's Biographer 247 

Mason's father, the Vicar of Holy Trinity in King- 
ston-upon-HuU, where, in 1724, Mason was 
born, not only personally superintended his educa- 
tion, but fondly fostered his bias towards verse- 
writing and painting — a course which. Hartley 
Coleridge observes, made it unnecessary for him 
to add ' the curse of disobedience to the calamities 
of poetry,' and which, in his twenty-second year, 
he dutifully acknowledged in heroic couplets. 
At St. John's College, Cambridge, where he was 
entered in 1743, he found a congenial tutor in 
Dr. Powell, who, besides directing his attention 
to classic models, encouraged him in cultivating 
what Thomas Warton calls ' the warblings of the 
Doric oate.' Other Cambridge friends were his 
uncle. Dr. Balguy, and later, Hurd, afterwards 
Bishop of Worcester. His first model was Milton; 
and his earliest essays, ' II Bellicoso ' and ' II Paci- 
fico,' published years afterwards in the first vol- 
ume of Pearch's ' Miscellany,' were obviously 
prompted by ' L' Allegro ' and ' II Penseroso.' A 
more ambitious performance, ' Musaeus, a Mon- 
ody to the Memory of Mr. Pope,' was a professed 
imitation of ' Lycidas.' This, Gray, then living 
at Cambridge, was, by the good offices of a 
friend, induced to revise, although he was as yet 
unknown to the author; and on Dr. Powell's 



248 Gray's Biographer 

advice it was published by Dodsley in April 1747. 
It had no small success, and passed into a third 
edition. To the reader of to-day, in spite of the 
neatness of the versification, it will seem a rather 
mechanical ' melodious tear ': but, it may be ad- 
mitted that the poet shows a certain originality 
by making Milton, Chaucer, and Spenser visit 
Pope, * in the trance preceding his departure,' for 
the purpose of assuring him of their own poetical 
unworthiness. This they do in character. 
Chaucer, the Tityrus of the deputation, thanks 
Pope for making his ' sely rymes,' ' ren right sote.' 
Milton, its Thyrsis, addresses him Miltonically 
in sonorous blank verse; while Spenser (Colin 
Clout), after the fashion of M. Edmond Rostand, 
borrows the imagery of his stanza from the farm- 
yard: 

Like as in village tioop of birdlings trim, 
Where Chanticleer his red crest high doth hold, 
And quacking ducks, that wont in lake to swim, 
And turkeys proud, and pigeons nothing bold; 
If chance the peacock doth his plumes unfold, 
Eftsoons their meaner beauties all decaying, 
He glist'neth purple and he glist'neth gold, 
Now with bright green, now blue himself arraying. 
Such is thy beauty bright, all other beauties swaying. 

To which Pope replies in a valedictory allocu- 



Gray's Biographer 249 

tion which shows that Mason could also success- 
fully echo the Popesque note. Whether, as his 
critic maliciously suggests, the speakers' mode of 
speech be, or be not, studied from Pope's para- 
phrases rather than the originals, these imitations 
certainly serve to explain why, in after years, 
Mason was so quick to decide on the fictitious 
element in Chatterton's Rowley poems. 

According to Mr. Ralph Straus's recent life of 
Dodsley, the reception of ' Musaeus ' made Mason 
anxious to undertake the task, afterwards so 
liberally performed by Thomas Warton, of edit- 
ing Milton's Minor Poems. ' I have often thought 
it,' he writes, ' a great pitty that many of the 
Beautiful Peices it [the " 3rd vol. of Milton "] 
contains shou'd be so little read as they certainly 
are, I fancy this has arisen from the bad thing 
they are tack'd to [?]. I want vastly to have a 
seperate edition of the Tragedy, Mask, Lycidas 
& Lallegro, &c.' But Tonson, to whom the 
copyright belonged, proved intractable, and the 
idea came to nothing. Meanwhile, early in 1748, 
Dodsley brought out the first three volumes of 
his ' Collection of Poems by Several Hands,' in 
the last of which he reprinted ' Musaeus ' (with a 
ridiculous illustration by Frank Hayman); and 
included a fresh piece by Mason, an ' Ode to a 



250 Gray's Biographer 

Water-Nymph.' With this arises Gray's first 
written reference to Mason, who was seven years 
his junior : ' Mr. Mason [he writes from Stoke to 
Dr. Wharton of Durham] is my Acquaintance. 
I liked that Ode very much [the ode just men- 
tioned], but have found no one else, that did. he 
has much Fancy, little Judgement, & a good 
deal of Modesty. I take him for a good & well- 
meaning Creature; but then he is really in 
Simplicity a Childy & loves everybody he meets 
with: he reads little or nothing, writes abundance 
& that with a design to make his fortune by it.' ' 
Mason had the courage to reprint this not en- 
tirely flattering picture in his later ' Memoirs ' of 
Gray, remarking only on the last words that, at 
the period referred to, he was, in truth, ' per- 
fectly well satisfied if his publications furnished 
him with a few guineas to see a play or an opera.' 
But evidently he did not share Gray's nervous 
horror of being paid for his productions. As re- 
gards the ' Ode to a Water-Nymph,' it may here 
be noted that Dodsley's version closes with a 
laudation of Lyttelton and Lyttelton's eloquence, 
of the beauties of Lyttelton's seat at Hagley, and 

^ Tovey's 'Letters of Thomas Gray,' 1900, i, 178. 
This extract illustrates Gray's employment and neglect of 
capitals, as also his use of the ampersand. 



Grays Biographer 251 

of the monody on the death of his charming first 
wife, which had come out in Dodsley's second 
volume. All this was afterwards suppressed, and 
the poem ' concluded according to the Author's 
original idea ' — a proceeding for which no ex- 
planation is vouchsafed, though it is easy to sug- 
gest one. Whether Mason was already acquainted 
with Lyttelton does not appear. But if, as stated 
by i\lr. Courtney ^ in his attractive little study of 
Dodsley's collection, most of the pieces it con- 
tained were submitted to Lyttelton before they 
were ' passed for printing,' nothing would be 
more natural than that it should occur, or should 
even be suggested by Dodsley, to one of the con- 
tributors that an opportunity might be found for 
gracefully flattering a distinguished statesman and 
patron of letters. And Mason, if not a strikingly 
original thinker, was quite acute enough to anti- 
cipate and act upon the worldly-wise injunction 
of Martin Routh of Magdalen: 'Attach yourself 
to some great man. Sir! Many have risen to 
eminence in that way.' 

Gray's letter to Wharton is dated 5th June 
1748; and in another to Walpole he speaks of his 
new friend's ' Musaeus ' as seeming * to carry 

^ ' Dodsley's Collection of Poetry : its Contents and 
Contributors.' By W. P. Courtney, 19 10, p. 2. 



252 Grays Biographer 

with it a promise at least of something good to 
come.' In 1745 Mason had taken his B.A., and 
quitted St. John's with a valedictory Ode to Dr. 
Powell. In the following year a second Ode 
commemorated his expectation to return to Cam- 
bridge, since, chiefly on the recommendation of 
Gray, he had been nominated to a Fellowship in 
Pembroke Hall. Owing, however, to the opposi- 
tion of the Master, Dr. Long, he was not elected 
until early in 1749. In February of the same 
year he published a monologue entitled ' Isis,' 
directed against the supposed spirit of Jacobitism 
prevailing at Oxford, as evidenced by recent dis- 
orderly demonstrations amongst the gownsmen in 
favour of King James the Third. In this the 
goddess, tearful and dilapidated, or, as her poet 
puts it, * in all the awful negligence of woe,' is 
made to invoke the shades of Sidney and Hamp- 
den, of Addison and Locke, to console her for the 
disloyalty of her seditious sons. The piece was 
promptly parodied by Byrom, and being also 
answered with considerable vigour by the future 
laureate, Thomas Warton, then of Trinity Col- 
lege, Oxford, Mason, perhaps not uninfluenced 
by a polite reference to ' Musaeus,' had the good 
sense to admit himself outdone. His next effort 
was a composition to be set to music, written, at 



Gray's Biographer 253 

the request of the authorities, for the installation 
as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge of 
that egregious personage, Thomas Pelham Holies, 
Duke of Newcastle, then Secretary of State for 
the Northern Department in the Pelham Admin- 
istration. The musician was Dr. Boyce; and it 
was performed in the Senate House on ist July 
1749; as part of what Gray, making report to 
Wharton, calls a 'Week of Wonders': 'Every 
one, while it lasted, was very gay, & very busy 
in the Morning, & very owlish & very tipsy at 
Night. I make no exception [he adds] from the 
Chancellour to Blew-Coat [the Vice-Chancellor's 
servant]. Mason's Ode was the only Entertain- 
ment, that had any tolerable Elegance ; & for my 
own Part, I think it (with some little abatements) 
uncommonly well on such an Occasion.' 

By this time its author is ' growing apace into 
his good Graces, as he knows him more.' ' He is 
very ingenious with great Good-Nature & Sim- 
plicity, a little vain, but in so harmless & so 
comical a Way, that it does not ofFend one at all; 
a little ambitious, but withall so ignorant in the 
World & its Ways, that this does not hurt him 
in one's Opinion, so sincere & so undisguised 
that no Mind with a Spark of Generosity would 
ever think of hurting him, he lies so open to 



254 Gray's Biographer 

Injury, but so indolent, that if he cannot overcome 
this Habit, all his good Qualities will signify- 
nothing at all. after all I like him so well, I could 
wish you knew him.' Some of these ' character- 
istics of the poetical temperament,' as Chalmers 
calls them, seem to have adhered to Mason 
through life; others, it is significantly added, were 
* effaced by a closer intimacy with the world.' 
But from Gray's words, it is clear that Mason was 
already in a fair way to become the familiar 
*■ Skroddles ' of their future correspondence. 

That correspondence, nevertheless, did not be- 
gin until July 1753, when Gray's first published 
letter to Mason is dated. In the interval Gray's 
famous ' Elegy ' came out; and in the same letter 
in which he writes to Walpole of its premature 
publication, he mentions a play, ' wrote by a per- 
son he has a very good opinion of.' He proposes 
to send Walpole the beginning : * It is (unfortun- 
ately) in the manner of the ancient drama, with 
choruses, which I am to my shame the occasion 
of; for, as great part of it was at first written in 
that form, I would not suffer him to change it to 
a play fit for the stage, and as he intended, be- 
cause the lyric parts are the best of it, they must 
have been lost. The story is Saxon, and the lan- 
guage has a tang of Shakespeare, that suits an old- 



Gray's Biographer 255 

fashioned fable very well.' In a later letter he 
tells Walpole that the author and the piece are in 
town together; and begs for Walpole's observa- 
tions, engaging not to betray more of his ver- 
dict than may be 'fit for the ears of a tender 
parent,' who, he adds, ' has ingenuity and merit 
enough (whatever his drama may have) to bear 
hearing his faults very patiently.' Whether Wal- 
pole's criticism was favourable or unfavourable is 
not recorded ; but the play was published by 
Knapton in March 1752, under the title of ' El- 
frida; a dramatic poem, written on the model of 
the antient Greek Tragedy. By Mr. Mason.' 

Prefixed to ' Elfrida ' is a sequence of letters in 
which the author sets forth his attempt to write 
an English play on Greek lines, a contradiction 
in conception to which, in spite of all opposition, 
he continued obstinately attached. Hartley 
Coleridge discusses these prolegomena, as well as 
the play itself, with much learning and at con- 
siderable length; but it is useless to reproduce 
here his arguments for or against a work no 
longer under discussion. The real i^lfthryth or 
Elfrida, daughter of Orgar, ealdorman of Devon- 
shire, became the second wife of Edgar, king of 
England. Subsequently, according to William of 
Malmesbury, she entered upon a wedded career 



256 Gray's Biographer 

quite discreditable enough to qualify her for the 
highest walks of Attic tragedy. Mason, however, 
did not needlessly hamper himself with historical 
accuracy. He makes Edgar send his minister 
Athelwold to offer his crown to Elfrida. But 
Athelwold falls in love with the lady himself; 
marries her, and hides her — with a convenient 
chorus of British virgins — in a secluded castle in 
Harewood Forest. To this retreat she is tracked 
by her father and Edgar. Athelwold is killed by 
the king in single combat; and dies murmuring 
(like Richardson's Lovelace), 'This atones for 
all.' Thereupon Elfrida promptly gets her to a 
nunnery. The play contains many careful lyric 
passages, especially in the choruses; and 'the 
Shakespearean tang ' is often not unskilful. But 
the primary and fundamental difficulty — the re- 
conciling of English sentimental drama with the 
atmosphere and machinery of the Greek stage — 
is not satisfactorily overcome. In book form 
' Elfrida ' had, notwithstanding, considerable suc- 
cess, but at the date of issue no attempt was made 
to put it on the boards.^ 

^ Some of its admirers must have been extravagant 
enough to satisfy the most exacting literary self-esteem. A 
rhymer in the ' Gentleman's Magazine' for March 1752 — 
with a profusion worthy of Browning's Italian sonneteer — 



Gray's Biographer 257 

Towards the close of 1753, Mason lost the 
father who had so carefully watched over his 
boyish studies. From his correspondence with 
Gray, it would seem that a second marriage had 
practically deprived him of his paternal estate, 
and reduced his means to his Pembroke Hall 
Fellowship. He consequently took orders in 1 754; 
and being fortunate enough to secure a patron in 
the Earl of Holderness (a Secretary of State), was 
appointed, not only his domestic chaplain, but 
was presented to the living of Aston, near Rother- 
ham, in the West Riding of Yorkshire. In the 

contrives in six lines to compare Mason to (i) Sophocles, 
(2) Plato, (3) Pindar, (4) Homer, and (5) Virgil. Then, 
pausing to regret that his 

'noble scenes should stand no chance 
With a dull Pantomime, or paltry dance ! 
he goes on to predict that 
'Elfrida still shall shine, and Mason's name 
Distinguish'd stand in the bright roll of fame, 
Till time shall stop, 'till nature's frame decay, 
And earth, and sea, and heav'n pass in one blaze away.' 
And yet Mason's name is not included in Mr. Humphry 
Ward's Pantheon of ' English Poets ' ! Nor — ode-maker as 
he was — does he gain a place in Mr. Edmund Gosse's 
anthology of that form; although, of necessity, he finds 
judicial record in Mr Courthope's monumental ' History 
of English Poetry.' The lines in the ' Gentleman ' are 
signed ' R. D.' (Query — Robert Dodsley.) 
S 



258 Gray's Biographer 

former of these capacities his duties carried him 
to the Continent, where he met another Cam- 
bridge man, William Whitehead, then travelling 
as governor, or tutor, to Lord Villiers and Lord 
Nuneham. All three are mentioned in a letter to 
Gray from Hanover of June 1755, in which 
Mason regales his correspondent with a burlesque 
kit-cat of the local librarian (who might have 
served as a model for Chodowiecki), and an 
account of a Hamburg lady with the uneupho- 
nious name of Belcht, who had read the ' Elegy ' 
with mild enthusiasm, but was entranced by the 
'Nitt Toats' of Young. In March of the following 
year, reverting to the choric measures with which 
' Elfrida ' had originated. Mason printed four 
odes — on Memory, Independency, Melancholy, 
and the Fate of Tyranny. 

It is said that the odes were not well received, 
and that the tendency of the author to purple 
epithets and alliterative art was freely criticized. 
Nevertheless, a second edition followed in April. 
Of the four pieces named that on Memory is the 
best, though Gray regarded as as ' superlative ' 
a Gray-like couplet in ' Melancholy ' (' To a 
Friend'): 

While thro' the west, where sinks the crimson Day, 
Meek Twilight slowly sails, and waves her banner gray. 



Gray's Biographer 259 

'The Fate of Tyranny' is a paraphrase of 
part of the fourteenth chapter of Isaiah — a task 
which might well have overburdened even a bolder 
bard than Mason; and whether 'Independency' 
is better or worse than Smollett is, as Hartley 
Coleridge says, no matter. In August 1757 
Horace Walpole printed at Strawberry Hill, and 
Dodsley published Gray's ' Progress of Poesy ' 
and 'The Bard'; after which, in March 1758, 
Gray's Odes and two of Mason's were included 
in the sixth and final volume of Dodsley 's Col- 
lection. How, not long afterwards, both Mason 
and his friend were assailed by the parodists 
Lloyd and Colman, has already been related in 
the preceding paper; ^ and it is only necessary to 
add now, what was not then stated, that Mason 
seems to have taken the matter much more to 
heart than Gray, who, having apparently assimi- 
lated Lanoue's precept ' la plainte est pour le sot,' 
philosophically declined to ' combustle ' about it. 
But Mason had more to lose ; for the ' Bard ' is 
still studied, and few have even heard of the 
'Ode to Memory.' 

By this date, Mason must already have been 
far advanced with ' Caractacus,' another and 
more ambitious dramatic poem ' on the model of 
^ See ' Robert Lloyd,' pp. 220-2. 



26o Gray^s Biographer 

the ancient Greek tragedy,' for Gray is already 
criticizing some form of it in December 1756; 
and by September of the next year has read over 
the MS. twice ' not with pleasure only, but with 
emotion.' ' The contrivance, the manners, the 
interests, the passions, and the expression go (he 
considers) beyond the dramatic part of" Elfrida " 
many leagues'; and he proceeds to devote one of 
the longest of his letters to close criticism of the 
details. * Caractacus ' was published in May 
iy59, and deals with the story of that King 
of the Silures who, taking sanctuary with the 
Druids in Anglesea, was afterwards captured and 
sent to Rome. The Chorus, still a salient feature 
of Mason's plan, is composed of Druids and 
Bards. The background is one that lends itself 
to impressive landscape painting; the fable is 
stronger ; the characterization more firm ; and 
the lyric parts more finished than in ' Elfrida.' 
Indeed, it would not be difficult to make quota- 
tions, could they be more than dislocated frag- 
ments. But the insuperable difficulty remains, 
that, however effective as a dramatic poem, 
' Caractacus,' like its predecessor, is no more an 
acting play than, according to Sir Arthur Pinero, 
is Browning's 'Blot in the 'Scutcheon.' In 1772 
Colman brought out an adapted ' Elfrida,' against 



Gray's Biographer 261 

the author's will, threatening him, when he ex- 
postulated, with a chorus of Grecian washer- 
women. Mason afterwards altered it himself; 
and it was again performed, without success, in 
1776. A somewhat better fate attended the con- 
current production of ' Caractacus,' but even 
that never obtained any permanent place on the 
stage/ 

After ' Caractacus,' Mason's next publication 
was a shilling pamphlet of three elegies issued by 
Dodsley in December 1762, though dated 1763. 
Two of these, the elegy * Written in the Garden 

^ Walpole's opinion of ' Caractacus ' was not as favour- 
able as Gray's. ' Mr. Mason [he tells George Montagu in 
June, 1759] has published another drama, called 'Car- 
actacus'; there are some incantations poetical enough, and 
odes so Greek as to have very little meaning. But the 
whole is laboured, uninteresting, and no more resembling 
the manners of Britons than of Japanese.' On the other 
hand, the ' Biographia Dramatica ' is almost as hysterical 
as Mr. Urban's critic of ' Elfrida.' Conceding that * Car- 
actacus ' was never intended for the English stage, ' in the 
closet ' — it goes on — ' it lays the strongest claim to im- 
mortality, and is one among a few instances, that poetical 
genius is so far from its decline at this time in these 
realms, that we have writers now living, some of whose 
works no British bard whatsoever, Shakspeare, Spenser 
and Milton not excepted, would have reason to blush at 
being the author of.' 



262 Grays Biographer 

of a Friend ' (Robert Wood, the author of 
' Pahnyra ' and ' Baalbec '), and that ' On the 
Death of a Lady ' (Maria, Lady Coventry), 
which was so great a favourite with Rogers — are 
among his best efforts in this kind. Another 
Elegy, not included in the trio, and inscribed to 
Dr. Hurd, then rector of Thurcaston in Lei- 
cestershire, figures as a dedication to ' Caracta- 
cus.' Here Mason develops his dramatic purpose. 
His desire, he says, had been to persuade the 
tragic Muse of Sophocles, with her * golden lyre' 
and ' buskin'd pomp,' to bring to Britain her 
' choral throng,' and ' mingle Attic art with 
Shakespeare's fire.' To which the Muse replies 

oracularly : 

Mistaken suppliant, know, 
To light in Shakespeare's breast the dazzling flame 

Exhausted all Parnassus could bestow. 
True; Art remains; and, if from his bright page 

Thy mimic power one vivid beam can seize, 
Proceed; and in that best of tasks engage. 
Which tends at once to profit and to please. 

In 1764 these pieces, with all his previous 
poems, except the 'Isis' and the 'Installation 
Ode ' (which latter was probably withheld be- 
cause the author had got nothing out of ' Old 
Fobus,' as he and Gray profanely called the Duke 
of Newcastle), were collected in one volume. The 



Gray's Biographer 263 

former reference to Lyttelton in the ' Ode to a 
Water Nymph ' was withdrawn,' Mason having 
now a practicable patron in Lord Holderness, to 
whom the book was dedicated, and who, besides 
giving him the Aston living and helping to procure 
him a chaplainship to George II, had recently 
obtained for him the precentorship of York Cathe- 
dral. This, with a York residentiary canonry, 
which he owed to another friend, Frederick 
Montagu, increased his means by about ^400 
per annum, so that his hunger for advancement — 
his ' insatiable repining mouth,' Gray called it — if 
not satisfied, should, for the moment at least, 
have been appeased. The next important occur- 
rence in his life was his marriage on 25th Sept- 
ember 1 765,^ to Miss Mary Sherman of Kingston- 
upon-HuU, a beautiful and amiable young woman, 
to whom he seems to have been genuinely attached. 
His happiness, however, was of brief duration. 
Mrs. Mason proved consumptive, and in spite of 
sedulous nursing, died at the Bristol Hot Wells 
in March 1767, being then twenty-eight. She is 

^ In a letter of June 1760 Gray speaks of Lyttelton as 
' your old patron,' so that, at some time, Mason must have 
had hopes from that quarter. 

^ An extract from the register of St. Mary Lowgate was 
communicated to 'Notes and Queries ' in October 1881 by 
the late Arthur Munby. 



264 Gray's Biographer 

buried in the north aisle of Bristol Cathedral 
under an epitaph composed by her husband 
which, like most of Mason's work, has been 
praised and dispraised, ^j one modern critic of 
distinction it is frankly denounced as 'fustian'; 
but the popular voice — influenced probably by the 
occasion — is in its favour/ Mason's own part of 
it, the first twelve lines, may be conventional 
enough;'^ but the beauty of the final quatrain, 
contributed by Gray, who also wrote an admirable 
letter to his bereaved friend, would be sufficient to 
efface far better lapidary work than Mason's: 

Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die, 

('Twas ev'n to thee) yet the dread path once trod, 

Heav'n lifts its everlasting portals high, 

And bids ' the pure in heart behold their God.' 



* A sentimental eighteenth-century admirer, and votary 
of the ' Sorrows of Werther,' Miss Eliza Dawson of Oxton 
in Yorkshire, liad long cherished the hope of seeing Mason 
on account of this epitaph. But when her hopes were at 
last realized, she was dismayed to find him 'a little fat old 
man of hard-teatured countenance,' entirely absorbed in 
his game of whist. (Paston's ' Side-Lights on the Georgian 
Period,' 1902, p. 259.) 

- Of one expression : * She bow'd to taste the wave,' it 
is but fair to state that, according to Pearch's ' Miscellany,' 
1775, i, 217, Mrs. Mason actually died 'while drinking 
a glass of t!ie waters.' 



Gray's Biographer 265 

Gray says that Hurd objected to the third line. 
But the imagery is legitimately Biblical, and it is 
hard to see why objection was raised. In any 
case, it is fortunate that Mason did not avail him- 
self of Gray's generous permission to ' make 
another ' line in its place if he pleased. 

That Mason deeply felt his loss there is no 
doubt. Although long, in Gray's phrase, 'in a 
" mariturient " way,' he had been over deliberate 
in deciding. He was forty when he became a 
husband, and his wedded life lasted no longer 
than eighteen months. But it gave him some- 
thing to think of besides himself; it was his 
happiest time; and, as Southey says, being happy 
he was cheerful. After his wife's death, he lapsed 
again into his old listless habit of discontent — a 
discontent no doubt intensified by the remembered 
' tempo felice.' His chief distraction seems to 
have been gardening. Already, in the dedicatory 
sonnet to Lord Holderness prefixed to the poems 
of 1764, he had referred to this: 

Here, as the light-wing'd moments glide serene, 
I weave the bower, around the tufted mead 
In careless flow the simple pathway lead, 

And strew with many a rose tlie shaven green.' 

He was a fervent adherent of the new landscape 
school; and for the further solace of his mind 



266 Gray's Biographer 

began, soon after his wife's death, to work at his 
most prolonged poetical effort, the ' English 
Garden,' of which the first book, setting forth 
the pervading principle, appeared in 1772. The 
three remaining books, containing practical direc- 
tions and making some two thousand five hundred 
lines in all, followed at leisurely intervals, the last 
appearing in 1782, when an Irish friend, Dr. 
Burgh, added an elaborate commentary and notes. 
Warton, who did not like Mason, nevertheless 
describes the 'English Garden ' as ' didactic poetry 
brought to perfection by the happy combination 
of judicious precepts with the most elegant orna- 
ments of language and imagery.' The verdict is 
a little machine-made ; but it was no doubt 
honest. Hartley Coleridge, writing many years 
later, thought it ' one of the dullest poems he had 
ever attempted to read,' and he, obviously was 
equally in earnest. Which is right? A not un- 
reasonable answer would be * Both.' Warton was 
judging the ' English Garden 'as an eighteenth 
centry didactic poem. To-day we do not care 
greatly for didactic poetry, however ingeniously 
decorated. Yet we should hardly go as far as 
Hartley Coleridge. Those who are curious in 
landscape gardening (and there are still a i^\N\)\ 
those who love to read of bowling-greens, and 



Grays Biographer 267 

Ha Ha's, and cascades, and hermitages, and the 
temples of Signer Borra, and the sham ruins of 
Sanderson Miller, to say nothing of that wise 
Sidonian king whom Fanny Burney called * Ab- 
dolomine ' — might well find their account in 
Mason's pages. It is true that blank verse offered 
pitfalls to his taste for redundancy; it is true also 
that, before the first book appeared, he had lost 
the patient and judicious critic who had so often 
pruned his luxuriances and 'castigated' his vocabu- 
lary. To this he himself refers in opening Book iii : 

Clos'd is that curious ear, by Death's cold hand. 
That mark'd each error of my careless strain 
With kind severity; to whom my Muse 
Still lov'd to whisper, what she meant to sing 
In louder accent; to whose taste supreme 
She first and last appeal'd, nor wish'd for praise, 
Save when his smile was herald to her fame. 

And so forth. Some lines that follow refer to a 
special memorial which he erected to his friend 
at Aston. This was a rustic alcove, or summer- 
house, which contained an urn and medallion 
portrait of Gray. Over the entrance was a lyre 
surmounted by the poet's motto from Pindar to 
his Odes; and below, on a tablet, with slight 
variation, came one of the discarded stanzas of 
the 'Elegy': 



268 Grafs Biographer 

Here scatter'd oft, the loveliest of the year, 

By hands unseen, are showers of violets found j 

The red-breast loves to build and warble here^ 
And little footsteps lightly print the ground. 

According to Murray's Handbook of Yorkshire 
for 1904, at that date this historic summer-house 
was still in existence at Aston, where the garden 
continued to preserve the old stretches of green- 
sward, the winding walks between the trees, and 
the openings which revealed the ' distant blue' of 
the Derbyshire hills referred to in Mason's last 
and best anniversary sonnet: 

Yet still my eyes can seize the distant blue 

Of yon wild Peak, and still my footsteps bold, 

Unprop'd by staff, support me to behold 

How Nature, to her Maker's mandate true. 

Calls Spring's impartial heralds to the view. 

The snowdrop pale, the crocus spik'd with gold. 

On 30th July 1 771, Gray died, and was buried 
on 6th August in Stoke-Poges churchyard. He 
left to Mason _^500, together with all his ' books, 
manuscripts, coins, music printed or written, and 
papers of all kinds, to preserve or destroy at his own 
discretion.' Out of this bequest Mason began, 
not long afterwards, to prepare Gray's 'Memoirs.' 
Borrowing a hint either from his own indolence, 
or Conyers Middleton's life of Cicero, and dis- 
carding the stereotyped method of his day, he 



Gray's Biographer 269 

proceeded, by printing Gray's letters with a brief 
connecting narrative and notes, to make him, as 
far as possible, ' his own biographer,' and in 
this way to present 'a regular and clear delinea- 
tion of his life and character.' His plan proved 
excellent; and it was at once adopted by subse- 
quent writers as the true method of life-writing. 
It remains the true method of life-writing still — 
where there are letters, be it understood; but in 
Mason's case there was one grave defect, of which 
his contemporaries were happily ignorant. Regard- 
ing Gray's correspondence as mere raw material, 
he treated it in a way which would now be re- 
garded as disingenuous. A biographer is no doubt 
entitled to suppress or withhold as he thinks fit, 
but he is not justified in garbling or falsifying. 
Mason practically did both. He left out passages 
without indicating that anything had been 
omitted ; he turned two letters into one ; and he 
freely altered the wording in others where he 
thought alteration was required. He may possibly 
have held that he was justified in what he did by 
the custom of his day; and it is not necessary to 
suppose him wilfully misleading. But he certainly 
cannot be defended on one plea which has been 
put forward in his defence, namely — that he could 
not foresee the future interest which would attach 



270 Gray's Biographer 

to Gray as an author. The question is one of 
editorial good faith; and it remains a serious draw- 
back to a work which Rogers read and re-read 
delightedly; which Miss Mitford regarded as 
* one of the most attractive books ever written; ' 
and which, sophisticated though it be, does not 
give an unfavourable or inadequate picture of 
Mason's friend and critic. 

Little requires to be said of Mason after the 
appearance in 1775 of Gray's biography. One 
of the accidents of its preparation was that it 
brought about a prolonged correspondence with 
Horace Walpole, only interrupted at last by politi- 
cal differences. The first book of 'The English 
Garden ' also led to the ' Heroic Epistle to Sir 
William Chambers,' already sufficiently treated 
in a former collection of these papers,^ although 
it may be stated here, as further proof of the ex- 
travagant praise which, even when its author 
wrote anonymously, he received from his contem- 
poraries, that Hannah More regarded it as, both 
for matter and versification, ' the best satire since 
the "Dunciad"!' Mason followed up the 
' Heroic Epistle' by some minor satirical pieces, 
which add little to his reputation, even if they 

^ 'Old Kensington Palace, and Other Papers,' 1910, 
p. i22, et seq. 



Gray's Biographer 271 

reveal unsuspected power of epigrammatic invect- 
ive. Beyond dispersed Odes and Sonnets, his 
chief remainins: work was was a translation into 
heroic verse of Du Fresnoy's ' De Arte Graphica,' 
dedicated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who annotated 
it. He also painted Mason's portrait; and, by 
will, left him Cooper's miniature of Milton.^ 
Politics occupied much of Mason's later years, 
though, besides gardening, he found some time 
for hobbies such as painting and church music. 
His musical gifts were fully recognized, and he 
was one of the favoured persons to whom Dr. 
Burney presented his book on the ' Present State 
of Music in France and Italy.' Of his painting, 
examples are the altar-piece of the ' Good Samari- 
tan' at Nuneham church, and a not-very-pleasing 
pencil-sketch of Gray at Pembroke College.^ As 

1 Mason left this to Dr. Burgh, and it is now at Rokeby 
in the possession of the Morritt family. A letter from 
Mason to Malone respecting it is printed in Prior's 
' Malone,' i860, p. 193. Altiiough it is by Samuel Cooper 
it is not now held to represent Milton (see Dr. G. C. 
Williamson on ' The Cooper Miniature ' in the ' Catalogue 
of the Portraits, Prints, and Writings of John Milton,' 
exhibited at Christ's College, Cambridge, 1908, pp. 17, 
,80-2). 

^ There is a copy of it in Gosse's ' Works of Gray,' 
1884, vol. iii. 



272 Gray's Biographer 

to politics, the acme of his many glorifications of 
Freedom and Liberty was a Secular Ode (1788) 
on the Anniversary of the Landing of King 
William at Torbay. But the terrible object 
lesson of the French Revolution proved as dis- 
turbing to Mason as to Walpole; and in 1797 
he published a shuddering palinode, bidding 
* A vaunt!' to 'abhorr'd Democracy.' In April 
of the same year he died, aged seventy-two. He 
has a monument in Westminster Abbey, next to 
Gray, and a tablet in Aston Church. 

Both as a writer and a personality Mason is 
exceedingly difficult to appraise. That much of 
the simplicity, modesty and amiability with which 
Gray credited him on their first acquaintance 
was not permanently done away by subsequent 
commerce with the world, is quite conceivable; 
nor is it necessary to doubt that he ' discharged 
the common offices of life as a man and a clergy- 
man, with a uniform propriety and decorum.' 
In later life he inherited an estate which brought 
his income up to ^^1,500 a year; and of this he 
is said to have given away a third in * patronage 
and charity.' But his correspondence, published 
by Mitford long after his death, does not exhibit 
him in an entirely attractive aspect. He praises 
retirement yet hankers after the * Cambridge 



Gray's Biographer 273 

coffee-houses' ; he combines the most lofty view 
of poetry with the keenest eye for the financial 
results; he courts criticism and finesses to avert 
it ; he preaches ' golden mediocrity' (an ill-chosen 
phrase I), but is always pushing uneasily for fresh 
preferment. These after all are only human 
frailties, though they illustrate the inexpediency 
of following up ' the full voice which circles 
round the grave' by the frank disclosure of 
familiar communications. As to his poetry, we 
should scarcely now be governed by the 'Gentle- 
man's Magazine ' or even the ' Biographia 
Dramatica'; but when one realizes that he was 
praised by a Quarterly Reviewer, as late as 18 16, 
for * metrical epitaphs ' that rival Dryden, and 
' sonnets ' that far surpass Milton, one can only 
' stare and gasp.' It is true that the same critic 
curses as well as blesses, for he credits him (justly) 
with * superfluity ' and a 'diction florid even to the 
confines of bombast.' He has sometimes been 
compared with Gray — and he would not have 
objected ; but any one who cares to make that 
comparison experimentally has only to take up 
Dodsley's last volume (which closes with Mason's 
Odes to Independency and Melancholy followed 
by Gray's ' Progress of Poesy ' and ' Bard ') in 
order to perceive that there is a material difference 

T 



274 Gray's Biographer 

between the master and the scholar, the difference 
of genius.^ Correct, well-equipped, copious, Mason 
is mainly imitative; and what is best in him he 
owes to Gray and Gray's criticism. He ranks 
with those versemen who mistake memory for 
inspiration, and facility for distinction; who re- 
ject living humanity, and rejoice in lifeless per- 
sonification ; whose art, if it sometimes instructs, 
seldom really moves or elevates. One of his son- 
nets is addressed to that ' emblem pure of legal 
liberty,' a ' Gravel Walk.' A great Elizabethan 
once wrote another to the ' Highway ' which — 
for the nonce — was his ' chief Parnassus.' But 
there is nothing of the 'gravel walk' about Sir 
Philip Sidney. There is too much of it in Wil- 
liam Mason. 

^ See also the additions which, as he says, he had the 
* boldness ' to make to Gray's unfinished ' Ode on the 
Pleasure arising from Vicissitude ' (' Poems and Memoirs,' 
2nd ed., 1775, PP- ^35> 1^)- 



APPENDIX A 

Carmontelle's Transparencies 

TO the particulars given at pp. 38-9 may be 
added the following from the French edition 
of Frenilly's ' Memoirs ' : 

'Who,' writes Frenilly, speaking of Carmontelle, 
' has not known his transparencies? It was a charm- 
ing invention, the most original in the world, and 
which has been badly imitated since : by means 
of a band of paper which unrolled itself from one 
cylinder to roll itself again on another, a picture 
fifteen inches high by about three feet wide renewed 
itself continually, presenting to the eye landscapes, 
towns, monuments, balls, illuminations, conflagra- 
tions — a crowd of scenes from life. Carmontelle did 
several of this sort, and owed it to them that he did 
not die in the workhouse. For when he saw the con- 
spiracies of his detestable prince [Egalite], he nobly 
resigned his reader's place by which he lived, and 
would have died of hunger without asking or com- 
plaining if the excellent Due de Charost, who loved 
and esteemed him, had not contrived to make him 
accept an annuity of 4,000 francs as the price of one 
of his transparencies. In this way his pride was not 
275 



276 Appendix A 

offended. He was very old, and I do not know if he 
prized a landscape of Claude Lorraine more than his 
transparencies. Before leaving this man who so much 
amused my youth, I must say a couple of words con- 
cerning a magic lantern which he exhibited one 
night at my father's. Contemporary personages were 
shown in action. Their appearances, costumes, ad- 
ventures, peculiarities, were all passed in review, and 
with this, abundance of anecdotes, bons mots, sly hits, 
and Savoyard buffoonery. This representation, full of 
wit and taste, is still perfectly visible to me, though it 
is sixty years since I saw it ' (' Souvenirs du Baron de 
Fre'nilly,' 1908, p. 8). 

The above passage, it will be seen, throws further 
light on the story of Carmontelle's last days and cir- 
cumstances. It is also possible that Mme. de Genlis 
was thinking of this special development of the trans- 
parencies when she likened them to 'a sort of 
magic lantern' (p. 38). 



APPENDIX B 

Exhibitions of the Eidophusikon 

CLEVER Mr. Pyne, masquerading in ' Wine and 
Walnuts ' as Ephraim Hardcastle, shows a 
curious and censurable coyness in the matter of 
dates. He carefully refrains from mentioning the 
year in which he visited the Eidophusikon, described 
in the twenty-first chapter of his first volume. And 
thereby arises a difficulty, and hangs a tale. The 
Eidophusikon is usually supposed to belong to 178 1 
— or thereabouts. But the storm-scene referred to by 
Pyne represents the loss at Seacombe, in the Isle of 
Purbeck, Dorset, on Friday, the 6th of January 1786, 
•of the 'Halsewell,' outward bound East Indiaman.' 
The solution is, that there was more than one exhibi- 
tion of Loutherbourg's ' moving pictures,' and that 
Pyne was familiar with that of 1786 alone. He was 
but a boy in 178 1, and he professes to speak 'de visu.' 
In 1786 he was between sixteen and seventeen; and 
in that year the wreck of the ' Halsewell ' was part 
of Loutherbourg's show. 

The ' Eidophusikon ' was exhibited for the first 

^ 'Annual Register,' 1786, p. 224. 
277 



278 Appendix B 

time on the 26th February 1781 ;' and the place of 
exhibition, as per advertisement in the public prints 
of the day, was a large house in Lisle Street, front- 
ing Leicester Street, Leicester Square. The price of 
admission was 5^'., and the performance began at 
seven. It was arranged in five scenes, as follows : 

1. Aurora; or, the the Effects of the Dawn, with a 

View of London from Greenwich Park. 

2. Noon; the Port of Tangier in Africa, with the 

distant View of the Rock of Gibraltar and 
Europa Point. 

3. Sunset, a View near Naples. 

4. Moonlight, a View in the Mediterranean, the 

Rising of the Moon contrasted with the Effect 
of Fire. 

5. The Conclusive Scene, a Storm at Sea, and Ship- 

wreck. 

The Music for the performance was composed by 
Michael Arne, Dr. Arne's son, who played the harpsi- 
chord. Between Scenes 2 and 3 came one of 
Schubert's sonatas ; and there was a musical intro- 
duction to the closing picture. There was also be- 
tween each scene a Transparency. These repre- 
sented : 

I. An Incantation. 

' The particulars that follow are mainly derived from 
the ' Public Advertiser.' 



Appendix B 279 

2. A Sea Port, a conversation of Sailors of different 

Nations. 

3. A View in the Alps, a Woodcutter attacked by 

Wolves; and 

4. A Summer Evening, with Cattle and Figures. 

For Noon (No. 2 Scene) was later substituted a 
' topical ' new Scene, The Bringing of French and 
Dutch Prizes into the Port of Plymouth, with a 
View of Mount Edgecumbe. 

After fifty-nine evenings, the first season came to 
an end in May. On Monday, loth December, it 
opened again in the same place, Lisle Street, Leicester 
Square. Entirely new music was provided by Mr. 
Burney, who also accompanied the 'Scenes' on the 
harpsichord, while the 'vocal Part' was undertaken 
by that favourite singer at Vauxhall and Ranelagh, 
Mrs. Sophia Baddeley. On 21st December the show 
closed for the holidays, with promises of fresh attrac- 
tions, especially a 'conclusive Scene' from Milton. 
The new Pictures, which were duly exhibited on 
31st January, comprised : 

1. The Sun rising in the Fog, an Italian Seaport. 

2. The Cataract of Niagara, in North America. 

3. The Setting of the Sun, after a Rainy Day, with 

a View of the Castle, Town and Cliffs of Dover. 

4. The Rising of the Moon, with a Water Spout, 

exhibiting the Effect of three different Lights, 



28o Appendix B 

with a View of a Rocky Shore on the Coast of 
Japan. 

The Conclusive Scene 
5. Satan arraying his Troops on the Banks of the 
Fiery Lake, with the Raising of Pandemonium, 
from Milton. 

After 7th March, the Storm and Shipwreck scene, 
which had always been highly popular, was restored 
' by particular Desire,' and the performance was 
divided into Two Acts, the Storm closing the first, 
and the Miltonic scene the second. As time went 
on, however, the attendance fell off; and the prices 
were reduced to 3/. and zs. 6d. On 31st May the 
show was closed. 

Four years later, on the 30th January 1786, after 
the wreck of the ' Halsewell ' East Indiaman, the 
Eidophusikon was reopened, the storm scene being 
modified so as to give an * exact, awful, and tre- 
mendous Representation of that lamentable Event,' 
a narrative of which, based on the accounts of the 
chief surviving officers, was to be obtained of William 
Thomson, the popular bookseller of the Exchange ; 
and for the music and melody of Burney and Badde- 
ley was substituted English Readings and Recita- 
tions 'by Mr. Cresswick.' In this way the existence 
of the exhibition was protracted until 12th May, 
which was announced as * positively the last night,' 
a valedictory 'bonne bouche ' being provided by the 



Appendix B 281 

appearance, * immediately previous to the Grand 
Scene from Milton ' of the Polish dwarf, Borulwaski, 
who performed several pieces on the English guitar. 
Borulwaski, who survived until 1837, must at that 
date have been nearing fifty, and probably had 
reached his full height, about 3 ft. 3 in. After 12th 
May 1786 there is apparently no further mention of 
Loutherbourg's famous show, and what became of 
the properties when sold history has not revealed. 



APPENDIX C 

Death of the Bailli de Suffren 

MJAL'S informant was M. Dehodencq, who 
died on 12th May 1849, aged eighty- 
seven, at No. 61, rue du Faubourg-Montmartre, a 
house in which M. Jal himself lived for forty-one 
years. He had known M. Dehodencq for thirty 
years ; and had frequently heard his account of the 
Bailli's death. After the Revolution, Dehodencq be- 
came a ' limonadier,' or coffee-house keeper, and 
for a long period held the cafe of the Theatre des 
Varietes, a favoured resort of literary men. Shortly 
stated, his story was as follows; In 1788, De- 
hodencq, then about six and twenty, was a member 
of the Bailli's household, in the modest capacity of 
* officier de la bouche ' under the ' Intendant,' 
Jean-Simon Gerard, father of the Francois Gerard 
who afterwards painted the Bailli's portrait. In the 
month of December, Dehodencq remembered hear- 
ing from the Bailli's valet, Duchemin, that his 
master had been brought home from Versailles with a 
sword-thrust through the body. By order of a surgeon, 
who was immediately called in, Dehodencq was sent 
out to get some nettles in order to ' fouetter,' or 
282 



Appendix C 283 

'debrider (stimulate) la plaie,' an operation which 
had no success. It was winter ; and Dehodencq was 
accustomed to say that he found the nettles under 
the snow in the allee des Veuves of the Champs 
Elysees, The particulars preceding the tragedy, as 
gathered by Dehodencq from those about the Bailli 
in his last hours, were that he had been importuned 
by the Prince de Mirepoix to interest himself on 
behalf of two of the Prince's nephews under punish- 
ment for some dereliction of duty in the East Indies. 
SufFren, a blunt seaman, and by no means pre- 
possessed in favour of the class of * marins pour rire' 
to which they belonged, at first remained silent. 
Being pressed, he replied at last in negative terms so 
contemptuous as to provoke a challenge, which he 
accepted, notwithstanding the fact that he was nearly 
sixty, and as stout as Marshal de Noailles or the 
' Gros Due ' d'Orleans. This encounter took place 
at Versailles, behind Bernini's equestrian statue 
of Curtius at the head of the Piece d'Eau des 
Suisses; and the Bailli, fatally wounded, was carried 
home to the Hotel Montmorency to die, which he 
did in three days, leaving strict injunctions that the 
circumstances should remain profoundly secret. This 
account, taken down almost entirely from De- 
hodencq's dictation, M. Jal published in a note to 
his 'Scenes de la vie maritime,' 1832, iii, p. 161. 
On the 17th July 1845, M. Cunat, of St. Malo, then 
engaged on the Bailli's biography, and wishing to 



284 Appendix C 

confirm the facts from the witness's own lips, visited 
Dehodencq at BatignoUes, in company with M. Jal. 
Dehodencq repeated, much in the same terms, what 
he had formerly related to Jal, adding a few minor 
details which duly figure in M. Cunat's pages. The 
story naturally found no very favourable reception 
with the Bailli's family; and, as might be expected, 
other versions were put forward. One, preserved 
by J. S. Roux (' Le Bailli de SufFren dans I'Inde,' 
1862, pp. 231-2), makes the duel the result of an 
altercation at a ball ; according to another, dating 
from 1866, Sufiren fell a victim to the mistaken 
treatment of a physician sent to him by order of 
Mesdames of France. But verisimilitude and con- 
gruity are on the side of M. Jal. 

Although M. Cunat deprecates what are known as 
' faits prives,' both he and M. Roux supply us with 
some of the Bailli's traits. In action Suffren's habitual 
head-dress was a wide-brimmed felt hat, which had 
been given to him by his brother, the Bishop of 
Nevers and Sisteron, and which was regarded by the 
common seamen with as much superstitious venera- 
tion as the historical grey coat of Napoleon inspired 
in the veterans of the Grande Armee. Like Nelson, 
negligent of his costume, which in India his excessive 
corpulence obliged him to reduce as much as possible, 
he generally appeared in his shirt and a light cotton 
vest or jacket. He resembled Robinson Crusoe in 
being frequently accompanied by a favourite parrot ; 



Appendix C 285 

and, as may perhaps be inferred from his obesity, 
was an excellent trencherman, fully recognizing the 
sanctity of the dinner-hour. His tastes, nevertheless, 
were simple. He was warmly attached to his family 
and friends; and in all his campaigns seems to have 
sighed for the quiet of his Provencal home. But 
once on ship-board his energy was indefatigable, and 
he never yielded to the enervating influence of an 
Eastern atmosphere. 'Je sers,' he wrote to his friend, 
the Countess d' Alais, ' pour faire la guerre, non ma 
cour aux femmes de I'Isle de France.' By the able 
seaman, who knew his work, the Bailli was idolized; 
by the ' officier a talons rouges,' who did not, he was 
naturally disliked. A rigorous disciplinarian, he was 
inexorable to cases of insubordination or imputed 
cowardice ; and his concise and uncompromising 
censure, conveyed in a constitutionally nasal tone, 
must have been an additional terror to delinquents. 
'Je persiste,' he said, receiving the excuses of a de- 
faulter, 'je persiste a dire que vous avez entache le 
pavilion.' Some of his letters to the Countess d'Alais, 
published by Captain Ortolan in the ' Moniteur ' for 
1859, §'^^ ^" intimate idea of his individuality. 



POSTSCRIPT 

The statement at p. 177 that Dehodencq's story, as 
related by him to M,M. Jal and Cunat, is ' now 
generally accepted,' derives its confirmation from the 
fact that it is repeated in such current works of refer- 
ence as the dictionaries of Hoefer, Larousse, and 
Bouillet. But, as it often happens, page 285 had no 
sooner been returned for press than the writer became 
aware that another version of the Bailli's death had 
recently been put forward, not on the side of 
Dehodencq, but supporting the story of 1866 that 
the Bailli died of ill-timed blood-letting (' une saignee 
intempestive '). This story was known to M. Jal. 
With additional detail, it is retold in the attractive 
' Legendes et Curiosites de 1' Histoire ' by Dr. Cabanes 
[1912], pp. 255-265: 'Comment est mort le Bailli 
de Suffren.' Dr. Cabanes quotes M. Lacour-Gayet, 
a member of the Institute, who cites a little treatise 
on Gout and Rheumatism by Dr. Alphonse Leroy, 
published in 1805. Dr. Leroy was the friend and 
medical adviser of the Bailli. According to this 
authority, the Bailli had gone to Versailles to visit 
Madame Victoire, the aunt of Louis XVL He had 
been suffering from gouty erysipelas. He looked so 
ill that the princess proposed to send him her own 
286 



Postscript 287 

physician, who prescribed bleeding in the arm. 
It was objected that the Bailli's medical man had 
ordered leeches on the feet: *Le medecin de cour, 
rapporte le docteur Leroy, repondit par un petit sar- 
casme. M. de SufFren, impatiente, ofFrit le bras; mais 
a peine fut il pique, qu'apres un peu de sang epanche, 
il perdit connaissance; la goutte fit une metastase 
rapide sur la poitrine. On reitera la saignee, et lorsque 
j'allai voir cet illustre ami, qui m'avait promis de se 
faire appliquer les sangsues aux jambes, je restai stupe- 
fait en apprenant son agonie . . .' (p. 264). This 
account, it is but right to state, was not penned to 
refute the duel story, but is an 'obiter dictum' in 
a medical work — a fact which adds to its value as 
evidence. On the other hand, one remembers Jal's 
first question to Dehodencq in 1 845 : ' D'abord, dites 
moi, je vous prie, le Bailli est bien mort d'apoplexie, 
n'est-ce pas? — Non, non, en duel! Et en disant ces 
mots, M. Dehodencq a vivement porte la main sur son 
coeur, comme pour affirmer sur I'honneur la verite 
de ce qu'il disait.' It is difiicult to conceive why 
Dehodencq,for no appreciable motive, should have in- 
vented and persisted in the circumstantial story which 
carried conviction to the minds of MM. Jal and 
Cunat, Meanwhile, it may be noted that the inter- 
esting volume of Dr. Cabanes contains an excellent 
copy of Houdon's bust of the Bailli in the Musee 
d'Aix. 



GENERAL INDEX 



N.B. — The titles of articles are in capitals 



Abdalonymus, 267. 
Aboukir Bay, Landing at, 

Loutherbourg's, 124. 
Actor, Lloyd's, 223. 
Adhemar, Count d', 52. 
Admiral Hosier's GAost, 

Glover's, 196. 
A Fielding " Find," 128- 

149- 
Akenside, Mark, 243. 
Alembert, Jean le Rond d', 

87. 
Alexandria, Battle of, Lou- 

therbourg's, 124. 
Algarotti, Francis, 82, 83. 
Allaire, Abbe, 60. 
Allen, Mrs., 5, 13, 14. 
Alms, Captain James, 169. 
Amelia, Fielding's, 26, 128. 
Amelia, Princess (daughter 

of George II), 9, 180, 

202. 
Angellier, Auguste, 62. 
Angelo, Henry, 39 n.,ioi n., 

102 n., 120 n., 126. 



Angouleme, Due d', 175, 
Anson, George Lord, 155, 

186. 
Anstey, Christopher, 30. 
Anville, Due d', 153. 
Apology^ Churchill's, 228. 
Arcadia, Lloyd's, 225, 
Armentieres, Marquis d', 

36. 
Art of Pleasing, Congreve's, 

188. 
Artois, Countess of, 175. 
Ash, Isabella, 139, 148 

149. 
Assyrian Host, Destruction 

of the, Loutherbourg's, 

124. 
Athelwold, 256. 
At Prior Park, 1-3 i. 
Atterbury, Bishop, 16 n. 
Auguste, the negro, 52, 
Aumale, Due d' (Henri 

d'Orleans), 43, 59 n. 
Author^s Apology, Lloyd's, 

216. 



290 



General Index 



Bachaumont, 57. 
Balguy, Dr., 26 n., 247. 
Baisamo, Giuseppe, 118. 
Barbarossa^ Brown's, 76. 
Bar bier de Sf-uille, Beau- 

marchais', 92. 
Bard, Churchill's, 226. 
Baretti, Joseph, 220, 23111., 

237. 
Barr^, Colonel, 51. 
Barrere, 152. 
Barthelemon, the violinist, 

71- 
Bath Postal Service, 3. 
Bath Stone (oolite), 5. 
Bathurst, Lord, 13. 
Battle of the Nile, Louther- 

bourg's, 124. 
Beaumarchais, Caron de, 

92. 
Belem, 143. 
Bellecour, 91. 
Beller,Liennard, the Suisse, 

52. 
Bensley, 218. 
Berchem, Nicolas, 97. 
Bernay, Mile, de, 53. 
Berry, Miss, 6, 35. 
Besenval, Baron de, 60. 
Bessborough House, 218. 
Bessborough, Lord, 202. 
Bickerton, Sir Richard, 173. 



Biographer, Gray's, 

243-274. 
Binyon, Mr. Laurence, 123. 
Blanche et Guiscard, 

Saurin's, 81. 
Blount, Martha, 12, 13, 

191, 192. 
Boaden's Correspondence of 

Garrick, 62. 
Boor, Richard, 134, 137. 
Borra, Signor, 186, 267. 
Boswell, James, 210, 244. 
Boufflers, Countess de, 

58 n. 
Bougainville the Elder, 

43 n. 
Bouquetiere, La, Boucher's, 

60. 
Bourbon, Due de, 50 n. 
Bourgeois, Sir Francis, 

125 n. 
Bourguignon, Hubert (Gra- 

velot), 88. 
Bourne, Vincent, 212, 217. 
Bousk, the Suisse, 53. 
Boyce, Dr., 253. 
'Boy Patriots,' The, 183, 

195- 
Bradshaigh, Lady, 246. 
Brewster, Dr. Thomas, i. 
Bridgeman, Charles, 184. 
British Theatre, Bell's, 124. 



General Index 



291 



Brothers, Richard, 121. 
Brown, 'Capability,' 184. 
Browne, Hawkins, 213. 
Browning, 256 n. 
Buckingham and Chandos, 

second Duke of, 209. 
Buckingham and Chandos, 

third Duke of, 209. 
Buffon, M. de, 57. 
Burgh, Dr., 266, 271 n. 
Burlat, Barbe (Mme. Lou- 

therbourg), 98. 
Burlington, Lord, 193. 
Bussy, Marquis de, 173. 
Bye-Posts, 4 n. 
Byrom, John, 252. 
Byron, Admiral, 159. 
Byng, Admiral John, 156. 

Cabanes, Dr., 286-7. 
Cagliostro, Count de, 118, 

119. 
Calas, Adieux de, Chodo- 

wiecki's, 47. 
Calas. Der Grosse, Chodo- 

wiecki's, 47. 
Calas, La Malheureuse 

Famille, Carmontelle's, 

60. 
Camden, Lord, 85. 
Camp, Linley's, 108. 
Campbell, Colin, 8. 



Camperdoavn, Battle of, 
Loutherbourg's, 123. 

Caractacus, Mason's, 259, 
261. 

Capricious Lowers, Lloyd's, 
240. 

Carmontelle, L. C. de, 32- 
61, 69, 176. 

Carmontelle, The Por- 
traits OF, 32-61. 

Carmontelle's portrait, 48. 

Carnavalet, Hotel de, 32, 
44 n. 

Carrogis, Louis. See Car- 
montelle. 

Carrogis, Philippe, 35. 

Casanova de Seingalt, 
Jacques, 96. 

Casanova, Francois, 96, 97, 
98 n. 

Catherine of Braganza, 94, 
143 n. 

Chalmers, Dr., 254. 

Chambers, Sir William, 

237- 
Champion, Fielding's, 20. 
Chantilly: Les Portraits de 

Carmontelle, Gruyer's, 45. 
Characters of Men, Pope's, 

193- 
Chartres, Due de, 36, 37, 
60. 



292 



General Index 



Chastellux, J.-F. de, 92. 
Chatelet, Marquis du, 33. 
Chaucer, 248. 
Chaulnes, Duchesse de, 

43 n. 
Chauvelin, Abbe de, 60. 
Chester, Colonel J. L., 

125 n. 
Chesterfield, Lord, 186. 
Chevreuse, Due de, 36, 

420., 53. 
Chevreuse, Duchesse de, 

53- 
Child, Sir Richard, 8. 
Chinese Festi'val, Noverre's, 

77, 78. 
Chit-Chat, Lloyd's, 237. 
Chodowiecki's Journey to 

Dantzig, 46. 
Choiseul, Duchesse de, 32, 

33. 
Christmas Tale, Garrick's, 

103, 104. 
Churchill, Charles, 19, 210, 

211, 225, 226. 
Churchill, Patty, 240. 
Cibber's Apology, 224. 
Cicero, Middleton's, 268. 
Cillart, M. de, 170. 
Clairon, Mile., 74, 81, 89, 

90. 
Clandestine Marriage^ The, 



Garrick and Colman's, 

65, 66 n , 224. 
Clare, Lord, 199. 
Clarissa, Richardson's, 246, 

256. 
Clarke, General, 51. 
Cobham, Lady, 191, 198. 
Cobham, Lord, 13 n., 182, 

183, 188, 193, 208. 
Cochin, C. N., 38, 71. 
Coke, Lady Mary, 32, 202, 

204 n. 
Coleridge, Hartley, 245, 

24-7. 255? 259, 262. 
Coll^, Charles, 52, 73, 90. 
Collection of Poems, Dods- 

ley's, 249, 251. 
Collier, Arthur, 139. 
Collier, Dr., 146. 
Collier, Jane, 139, 
Collier, Margaret, 139, 144, 

145, 146. 
Colman, George, 80, io7n., 

2TI, 213, 218, 222, 259. 
Conclave, Churchill's, 226. 
Conde, Prince de, 50. 
Conference, Churchill's, 226. 
Congreve, William, 181, 

187. 
Connoisseur, The, 213. 
Contes Moraux, Marmon- 

tel's, 236, 239. 



General Index 



293 



Conti, Prince de, 58 n. 
Cook's monument at Stowe, 

200. 
Coquelin, M., 223. 
Coureur de St. Cloud, 4.2 n. 
Courthope, Mr. W. J., 

2S7n. 
Courtney, Mr. W. P., 251. 
Co'vent Garden Tragedy, 

Fielding's, 19. 
Coventry, Maria, Lady, 

262. 
Cowper, William, 211,212, 

215, 218, 234. 
Cradock, Charlotte, i, 19. 
Critic, Sheridan's, 108. 
Croix, Marquise de la, 

42 n. 
Cromarty, Lord, 135. 
Cross-posts, 4n. 
Cry, The, Fielding and 

Collier's, 139. 
Cumberland, Richard, 211. 
Cunat, M. Charles, 151, 

152, 283, 284, 286, 287, 
Cyder, Philips', i36n. 
Cymon, Garrick's, 103 n. 

Dalston, Miss Betty, i. 
Dance, Sir Nathaniel, 83, 

84. 
Daniel, Mrs,, 131, 132. 



Dashwood, Miss Kitty, 

193. 
Dauphin, The (son of 

Louis XV), 49. 
Dauphin, The (son of 

Louis XVI), 175. 
Dauphiness, The, 50. 
Davies, Thomas, 210, 227. 
Dawson, Miss Eliza, zG^n. 
De Arte Graphica, Du Fres- 

noy's, 271. 
Death of Adam, Klopstock's, 

239. 
Deffand, Mme. du, 32, 33, 

35» 52. 55- 
Dehodencq, 177,282,283, 

286, 287. 
Denis, Admiral Sir Peter, 

236. 
Denis, Charles, 72, 236. 
Denis Dwval, Thackeray's, 

236. 
Delany, Mrs., 6 n. 
Derrick, Samuel, 22, 30. 
Derwentwater, James Rad- 

cliffe, Earl of, 191. 
Devonshire, Duke of, 84, 

85. 
Deyverdun, 118. 
Diable a Sluatre, Sedaine's, 

76 n. 
Diderot, 87, 97, 99, 100. 



294 



General Index 



Diderot's Drame Serieux, 9 3. 

Di<vine Legation of Moses, 
Warburton's, 1 5. 

Doric Arch at Stowe, Prin- 
cess Amelia's, 203. 

Dobell, Mr. Bertram, 103, 

Douglas, Home's, 246. 

Du Barry, Vicomte, 92. 

Duclos, C. P., 57. 

DufF, Major Lachlan 
Gordon, 43. 

Duff, Mr. Thomas Gordon, 

43 n- 
Dumesnil, Mile., 81. 

Edgar, King of England, 

255, 256. 
Edwards, Thomas, 30. 
Egaltte,'Ph\\\Y', 39, 44n., 50. 
EgmontjComtesse d' (i), 58. 
Egmont, Comtesse d' (2), 

54., 58 n. 
Eidophusikon, Louther- 

bourg's, 111-117, 277- 

281. 
Eighteenth -Century 

Stowe, 180-209. 
Elegies, Mason's, 261. 
Elegy, Gray's, 254. 
Elfrida, or ^Ifthryth, 255. 
Elfrida, Mason's, 254, 255, 

256 n., 260, 261. 



Enghien, Due d', 50 n. 

England and JVales, Roman- 
tic and Picturesque Scenery 
in, Loutherbourg's, 124, 
126. 

English Garden, Mason's, 
266, 270, 

Essai sur les Mceurs, Vol- 
taire's, 82, 

Estaing, Count d', 159, 
160. 

Estcourt, Dick, 189. 

Estourmel, Captain d', 153. 

Etanduere, M. d', 154. 

Exeter, Lord, 83. 

Eybelly, Marie-Jeanne, 35. 

Famous Houses of Bath, M r. 

J. F. Meehan's, 6n. 
Farnborough, Lord, 123 n. 
Farnham, Lord, 51. 
Faulkner, Thomas, 94, 126. 
Favart, C, 103. 
Fetes Chinoises, Noverre's, 

77. 
Fielding, Allen, 27. 
Fielding, Harriot, 139, 141, 

145. 
Fielding, Henry, i, 2, 19, 

26 n., 72 n., 83, 129. 
Fielding, Henry, Miss G, M. 

Godden's, i n., i3on. 



General Index 



295 



Fielding, Mrs., 139, 144, 

145. 
Fielding, Sarah, 2, 28, 139. 
Fielding, Sir John, 128, 

130. 
Fiennes, Celia, 206. 
Filon, M. Augustin, 57 n. 
♦Find,' A Fielding, 128- 

149. 
Fittler, James, 122, 124. 
Fitzgerald, Mr. Percy, 62. 
Florian, J. P. C. de, 51. 
Fontenelle, Bernard le Bo- 

vier de, 32. 
Fordhook, 135, 137 n. 
Forestier, M. Masson, 57 n. 
Fosse, J. B. J. de la, 47, 60. 
Foucou, the sculptor, 176. 
Frenilly, Mme. de, 40. 
Fr^nilly's Recollections^ 40, 

49 n-» 275- 
Fuller, Thomas, 182. 
funeral^ Steele's, 194 n. 

Gainsborough, Thomas, 29, 
116, 124. 

Galissoniere, Admiral de 
la, 156. 

Galles, Captain de, 163. 

Garat's Memoirs^ 88 n. 

Garric, David (of Bor- 
deaux), 64. 



Garric, Jeanne, 65. 
Garrick, David, 58, 62-93, 

loi n., 102, 104. 
Garrick, George, 80, 83, 

84. 
Garrick, Mrs., 70, 72, 81. 
Garrick, Noverre on, 79. 
Garrick, Peter, 74. 
Garrick's Grand Tour, 

62-93. 
Garrick's Head, Bath, 6 n. 
Garrigues, The de la, 64. 
Gay, John, 112. 
Genlis, Mme. de, 35, 37, 

38, 4ij 45. 48> 49. 5°, 

59- 
Geoffrin, Mme, 88. 
Gerard, Francois, 176, 282. 
Gibbon, Edward, 74, 81, 

118, 229. 
Gibbons, Grinling, 208. 
Gibbs, James, 198, 202. 
Glover, Richard, 195. 
Godiva, Lady, 181. 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 12, 74, 

216, 218 n. 
Goncourts, The, 55. 
Gosse, Mr. Edmund, 257 n. 
Gou^ernante^ La Chaussee's, 

81. 
Gramont, Duchesse de, 

54- 



296 



General Index 



Grand Tour,Garrick's, 

62-93. 
Grasse, Count de, 161. 
Gravelot (Hubert Bourgig- 

non), 90. 
Graves, Rev. Richard, 23. 
Gray, Thomas, 232, 243, 

247, 264, 267. 
Gray's Biographer, 243- 

274. 
Gray's Odes, 219. 
Greatbach, W., 3411. 
Great Fire of London, 123 n. 
Grenville, Captain Thomas, 

186. 
Grimm, Baron, 35, 46, 57, 

58, 66, 67, 73, 86, 87, 

89. 
Grub Street Journal, 1 9. 
Gruyer, F. A., 45, 53, 54. 
Guibert, Comte de, 55. 

Haidar Ali, 163, 164, 165, 

167, 173. 
Halseivell East Indiaman, 

Loss of, 1 14, 277. 
Hammersmith Terrace, 94, 

117. 
Hammond, James, 195. 
Hannay, Mr. David, i74n. 
Hastings, Warren, 212. 
Hawker, Captain, 169. 



Hayman, Frank, 249. 
Hecuba, Delap's, 225. 
Hedgcock, Dr. F. H., 63. 
Heitz, Catherine Barbe, 96. 
Helvetius, Mme., 32. 
Helvetius, 86. 
Henry Fielding, Godden's, 

I n., 130 n. 
Heroic Epistle, Mason's, 

270. 
Hervey, Lady, 32, 246. 
Hill, Dr. Birkbeck, 243, 
Hill, Joseph, 218. 
Hill, The Misses, 218 n. 
History of England, Bow- 

yer's, 124. 
Hogarth, William, 68 n., 

95, 106, 149, 210. 
Hogarth's Election Series, 

46 n., 82. 
Hours of the Day, Louther- 

bourg's, 97. 
Holbach, Baron d', 57, 87, 

92. 
Holder, Elizabeth (Mrs. 

Allen), 5, 13, 14. 
Holderness, Earl of, 257, 

263, 265. 
Holland, Sir Nathaniel 

Dance, 83, 84. 
Houdon, J. A., 287. 
Houel, 60. 



General Index 



297 



Howard, Lady Ann, 202, 
204n. 

Howe, Richard, Earl, 150. 

Howe's Victory (June i, 
1794), 122. 

Hubert of Geneva, 32. 

Huchon, M. Rene, 63. 

Hughes, Admiral Sir Ed- 
ward, 52, 163-174. 

Hume, David, 43 n., 88. 

Humphry C//«^^r, Smollett's, 
136 n. 

Hunter, William, 134, 137. 

Hurd, Richard, 26 n., 247, 
262, 265. 

// Bellicoso, Mason's, 247. 
Iliad, Pope's, 20, 22. 
// Pacifico, Mason's, 247. 
Impey, Elijah, 212. 
Independence, Churchill's, 

240. 
Installation Ode, Mason's, 

253. 
Irving, Sir Henry, 107. 
Isis, Mason's, 252. 

Jal, M. Auguste, 35, 40, 
177, 1780., 282-4, 286-7. 

Jealous Wife, Colman's, 
225. 

Johnson,Dr., 210,221,243. 



Johnstone, Governor 
James, 160, i6i, 162. 

Joly, M., 41. 

Jones, Richard, 8. 

Joseph Andrenxjs, Fielding's, 
20. 

Journal Etranger, Freron's, 

75. 
Journal of a Foyage to 

Lisbon, Fielding's, 1 29, 

130 n., 132, 136, 139. 
Journey from this JVorld to 

the Next, Fielding's, 21. 
Junqueira, 143. 

Kemble, John, 106 n. 

Kenrick, Dr., 85. 

Kent, William, 185, 186, 

208. 
King, Commodore, 167 n., 

174. 
Kinloss, The Baroness, 

209. 
Knight, Joseph, 62. 

Lacour-Gayet, M., 286. 
Lacy, 80, 104. 
Lafayette, 44 n. 
Laitiere de Villers-Cotter- 

ets, 43 n. 
Lamballe, Princesse de, 51. 
Lamoignon, Presidente, 54. 



298 



General Index 



Langton, Bennet, no. 
Lauzun, Duchesse de, 54, 

58 n. 
Leake, James, 30, 
Ledans, Chevalier de, 4.2, 

58 n. 
Le Kain, 91. 
Le Moyne, J, B., 88. 
Leofric, Earl, 181. 
Leonidas, Glover's, 196. 
Leroy, Dr., 286-7. 
Lespinasse, Mile, de, 55. 
Lethe, Garrick's, 215. 
Lettres sur les Arts imita- 

teurs, Noverre's, 79. 
Lenvesden Hill, Crowe's, 

114. 
Lewis, Sir George, 72. 
Library, Kippis's, 231. 
Lilliput Alley, Bath, 5. 
Linnaeus, 6 n. 
Lloyd, Dr. Pierson, 211, 

226. 
Lloyd, Robert, 66 n., 72, 

259. 
Lloyd, Robert, 210-24.2. 
London and Wise, 184.. 
Londres, GrosJey's, 201 n. 
Long, Dr., of Pembroke 

Hall, 252. 
Loutherbourg, Lucy de, 

120, 125. 



Loutherbourg, Philip de, 

71, 150- 
Loutherbourg, R.A., 

94-127. 
Loutherbourg, Salome de, 

125. 
Lucas, Captain J. J. E., 

176 n. 
Louis XVI, 175. 
Lying Valet, Garrick's, 76. 
Lyttelton, Lord, 24, 181, 

187, 196, 250, 263. 

Macaulay, Lord, 243. 
Mackenzie, George, Lord 

Cromarty, 135 n., 137. 
Macklin's Bible, 124. 
Mahan, Admiral, 172 n., 

178. 

Maid of the Oaks, Bur- 
goyne's, 107. 

Mainauduc, Dr. de, 118. 

Marie Antoinette, 175, 

Marigny, Marquis de, 57. 

Marlborough, Sarah, Duch- 
ess of, 190. 

Marmontel, 87, 89. 

Mar's Hill (Mount Beacon), 
Bath, 7. 

Mason, Mrs., 263. 

Mason, William, 32, 234n., 
243-274. 



General Index 



299 



Matthews, Admiral, 152. 
Maurepas, Count de, 153. 
Medland, Thomas, 206. 
Meehan, Mr. J. F,, 6 n. 
Memoires Secrets, Buchau- 

mont's, 81. 
Memoirs and Writings of 

Gray, Mason's, 243, 268. 
Mesmer, F. A., 118. 
Mesangere, Pierre de la, 42, 

4-3- 
Middleton, Mrs., 202. 
Miger, 60. 
Millar, Andrew, 134, 137, 

145. 
Miller, Sanderson, 267. 
Milton, John, 248. 
Milton miniature. Cooper's 

pretended, 271. 
Mineral Water Hos})ital, 

Bath, 7, 14. 
Minor, Foote's, 78. 
Minor Poems, Milton's, 249. 
Mirepoix, Prince de, 177, 

283. 
Mitford, John, 272. 
Mitford, Miss, 270. 
Miscellanies,¥\e\A\ng'?,, 21, 

22. 
MonceaUjPark of, 43 n., 60. 
Monkhouse, Cosmo, 127 n. 
Monnet, Jean, 69, 91, loi. 



Monro, Dr., 116 n. 
Montesson, Mme. de, 50. 
Moody, Dr. Christopher 

Lake, 125. 
More, Hannah, 118. 
MoreJlet, Abbe, 87. 
Mossop, H., 227. 
Mountain, Mrs., 95. 
Mount-scoundrel, 239. 
Mozart, 57. 
Mozart, Leopold, 57. 
'Mr.Allworthy.' 5^^ Allen. 
Mr. Pope, George Paston's, 

10 n. 
Munby, Arthur J., 263 n. 
Munro, Sir Hector, 1 64. 
Murphy, Arthur, 62, 89. 

Naish, Mr. R. G., 23 n. 

Napoleon, i 50. 
Narcisse, the negro, 52. 
Nash, Richard, 6 n. 
Naumachia, The, 44 n., 

60 n. 
Neville, Mr., 89. 
Newcastle, Duke of 

(Thomas Pelham Holies), 

253, 262. 
Night, ChurchilTs, 230. 
Ninette a la Cour, Favart's, 

240. 
Nivernais, Duke de, 30. 



300 



General Index 



NoUekens, Joseph, 84, 185. 
Nonsense Club, The, 218, 

219, 222. 
Nourse, John, 129. 
Nou'jelle Ecole des Femmes, 

de Moissy's, 236. 
Nowvelles Promenades dans 

Paris, Cain's, 44- n. 
Noverre, Jean Georges, 75. 
Nugent, Mary, Marchioness 

of Buckingham, 199, 
Nuneham, Lord, 258. 

Oberkirch, Mme. d', 50. 

Odes, Gray's, 259. 

Odes, Mason's, 258. 

Ode to a Water Nymph, 
Mason's, 249, 250, 251, 
263. 

Ode to Memory, Mason's, 
220. 

Ode to Obscurity, 220. 

Oldfield, Mrs., 194. 

Olivier's The a VAnglaise, 
57 n. 

Omai, O'Keeffe's, 108. 

Ombres Chinoises, 38. 

O'Melan, Abbe, 52. 

Orford, Lady, 83. 

Oriental Gardening, Disser- 
tation on, Chambers's, 

221. 



Orleans, Louis - Philippe, 
Due d', 36, 39, 50, 52, 
58, 60. 

Orleans, Louis-Philippe Jo- 
seph, Due d', 37, 39, 50. 

Orleans, Therese-Bathilde 
d' (' Mademoiselle'), 50. 

Our tillage. Miss Mitford's, 
218 n. 

Palladian Bridge (Prior 

Park), 8, 9. 
Palladian Bridge (Stowe), 

8, 200. 
Palmerston, Lord, 83. 
Paradoxe sur le Comedien, 

Diderot's, 69 n. 
Paris, Comte de, 209. 
Parlour IVindonv, Mangin's, 

106 n. 
Parnasse Anglois, Patu's 

projected, 75. 
Pascet, the enameller, loi. 
Pasquin, Fielding's, 19, 

238 n, 
Patagonian Theatre, Dib- 

din and Stoppelaer's, 112. 
Patu, Claude-Pierre, 75-77. 
Penthievre, Due de, 51. 
Philosophe sans le Savoir, 

Sedaine's, 92. 
Pinero, Sir Arthur, 260. 



General Index 



301 



Pitt, 28, 183, i86, 197. 
Place, De la, 7211., 7311., 92. 
Plain Truth, Fielding's, i. 
Poems, Lloyd's, 231. 
Poet, Lloyd's, 228. 
Polignac, Comtesse de, 54. 
Pollock, Mr. Walter Her- 

ries, 69 n. 
Pons-Saint-Maurice, M. de, 

36. 
Pont-de-Veyle, M., 52, 

58 n. 
Pope, Alexander, 9-15, 191, 

248. 
Pope's Letters, 10. 
Powell, Dr., 24.7, 252. 
Powys, Mrs. Lybbe, 201, 

207. 
Pratt, Mrs. Mary, 119, 

121, 126. 
Preville, G6, 68, 81. 
Prior, Matthew, 213. 
Prior Park, At, 1-3 i. 
Pritchard, Miss, 75. 
Pritchard, Mrs., 75, 106, 

227. 
Prologues, Lloyd's, 225. 
Prophetie Accotnplie, La, 90. 
Progress of Envy, Lloyd's, 

212. 
Pyne, W. H., 106 n., 115, 

277. 



j Quin, James, 18. 

Racine, Louis, 57. 
Ralph, James, 211. 
Rambler, Johnson's, 238. 
Rameau, J. P., 57, 60. 
Reynolds, Captain, 167 n. 
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 116, 

271. 
Riccoboni, Mme., 87. 
Richardson, Samuel, 2, 29, 

149. 
Riciielieu, Marshal, 155. 
Rich, John, 70. 
Robinson Crusoe, Sheridan's, 

108. 
Robert Lloyd, 210-242. 
Rogers, Samuel, 270. 
Rosciad, Churchill's, 225. 
Rostand, M. Edmond, 248. 
Round, Mr. J. H., 138 n. 
Routh, Martin, 251. 
Ruffhead's Pope, 193 n. 
Rumain, Comtesse de, 54. 

Saint-Aubin, Auguste de, 

60. 
St. James's Magazine, The, 

211, 232, 237. 
St. Lambert, 87. 
Sainte Palaye, La Curne de, 

52- 



302 



General Index 



' Sally Lun/ 5 n. 
Salm, Princesse de, 43. 
Samaritan, Mason's, 271. 
Sarrazin, Jean, 65. 
Savage, Richard, 11, 239. 
Secular Ode, Mason's, 272. 
Selima and Azor, Collier's, 

107, 
Seran, Comtesse de, 54. 
Seraphin, Joseph Francois, 

38. 
Serres, Dominic, i7on. 
Seivandoni, 105. 
Sevigne, Mme. de, 32, 

1940. 
Shakespeare Illustrated, Le- 
nox's, 76. 
Shakespeare in France, 

73 n. 
Sharp, William, 121. 
Shenstone, William, 235 n. 
Sheridan, R. B., 108, 224. 
Sherman, Miss Mary (Mrs. 

Mason), 263, 264 n. 
Side Lights on the Georgian 

Period, Paston's, 264 n. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, 274. 
' Skroddles ' (Mason), 254. 
Slater, Joseph, 186. 
Smart, Christopher, 234. 
Smith, Adam, 88, 222. 
Smith, Mr. W. M., 34 n. 



Soane, Sir John, 125. 
Southey, Robert, 221, 265. 
Spanish Armada, Defeat of, 

Loutherbourg's, 123 n. 
Speed, Henrietta Jane, 191. 
Spencer, Lord and Lady, 

83. 
Spence's Anecdotes, 1 5 n. 
Spenser, Edmund, 248. 
Spleen, Colman's, 107. 
Stage Costume, 106 n. 
Stances a la Malibran, 

de Musset's, 225. 
Stapfer, Paul, 63. 
Sterne, Lawrence, 29, 58, 

67 n., 80, 81. 
Steyne, Lord, igon. 
Stowe Catalogue, Forster's, 

209 n. 
Stowe,Eighteenth-Cen- 

TURY, 180-209. 
Stoive, Seeley's, 208 n. 
Straus, Mr. Ralph, 249. 
Stubbs, John, 140, 142. 
Suard, 89, 92. 
Suffolk, Lady, i3n., 191. 
Suffren, Paul de, 152. 
Suffren, Pierre Andr^, 52, 

150-179, 282-287. 
Suffren, The Bailli de, 

150-179. 
Sultan, BickerstafFe's, 107. 



General Index 



303 



Sunk Fence, The, 184. 
Swift, Jonathan, 189. 
Swift on Blenheim, 207. 

Tableau Mowuant, 39 n. 
Talleyrand, M. de, 4.2, 

43 n- 
Tancred and Sigismunda, 

Thomson's, 81. 
Tartre, Mme. du, 53. 
Tar- Water, 82, 130. 
Tears and Triumph of Par- 
nassus, Lloyd's, 225. 
Temple, Anna Chamber, 

Countess, 204 n., 205. 
Temple, Countess, 182, 

199. 
Temple, Earl, 180, 204. n. 
Temple, George, 199. 
Temple, George, Marquess 

of Buckingham, 199, 

207, 208. 
Temple, Hester (Pitt's 

wife), 199. 
Temple, Richard, Earl, 

199. 
Temple, Sir Peter, 182. 
Temple, Sir Richard (i), 

182. 
Temple, Sir Richard (2), 

182, 184, 189. 
Temple, Sir Thomas, 181. 



Temples of Stowe, The, 

181. 
Theatre Anglais, Choix de 

Petites Pieces du, Patu's, 

76. 
TheBailli de Suffren, 

150-179, 282-287. 
The Portraits of Car- 

montelle, 32-61. 
Thierry, M. Augustin, 

61 n. 
Thomson, James, 95, 196. 
Thornton, Bonnell, zio, 

212, 213, 2l8. 
Tilliard, J. B., 60. 
Tipu Saib, 173. 
Tischbein, the Elder, 96. 
Tom Jones, Fielding's, 2, 

128. 
Tom Jones, Receipt for, 

23 n., 128. 
Tom Thumb, Fielding's, 19. 
Tooke, William, 230. 
Torre, the pyrotechnist, 

71. 
TroUope, Anthony, 105. 
Tronchin, 37. 
Tucker, Miss Gertrude 

(Mrs. Warburton), 16. 
Turner, J. M. W., 127. 
T^wo Ladies of Syracuse, 

Theocritus', 237. 



304 



General Index 



JJni'versal Deluge^ Louther- 

bourg's, 124, 
Uzanne, M. Octave, 56. 

Valenciennes, Attack on, 
Loutherbourg's, 122, 

123 n. 
Vanbrugh, Sir John, 185, 

190. 
Vanloo, Carle, 96. 
Vauban, Comtesse de, 55. 
Vaudreuil, Captain de, 154.. 
Veal, or Veale, Captain 

Richard, 130, 131, 140, 

149. 
Vengeur, Sinking of the, 

150- 
Venice Preser'v'd, Otway's, 

18. 

Verite dans le Vin, CoUe's, 

91- 

Vermenoux, Mme. de, 42 n. 

Vernet, Joseph, 88, 99. 
Vigee-Lebrun, Mme., 88. 
VilUers, Lord, 258. 
Virginia, Crisp's, 66 n. 
Voisenon, Abbe de, 57. 
Voltaire, 56, 60, 76, 82, 86. 
Voltaire's Theatre Classique, 
93. 

Wade, Marshal, 3. 



Walpole, Horace, 32, 33, 
35, 88, 90, 92, 99, 109, 
119, 180, 202, 210, 219, 
221,244, 254,259, 26 in. 

Walpole, Sir Robert, 183. 

Wanstead House, 8. 

Warburton, Bishop, 5, 14, 
15-19, 221. 

Warburton, Mrs,, 16. 

Ward, Dr., 130. 

Ward, Dr. A. W., 195. 

Ward, Mr. Humphry, 
257 n. 

Warley Camp, no. 

Warton, Joseph, 222. 

Warton, Thomas, 247, 249, 
252, 266. 

IVay to Keep Him, Murphy's, 
236. 

Webber, John, 109. 

Welch, Saunders, 132, 133, 

134. 137- 
Wesley, Samuel, 217, 
Weston, 104. 
Wharton, Dr., of Durham, 

250, 253. 
Whitehead, William, 258. 
Whittingham, Elizabeth 

(Sir John Fielding's wife), 

138. 
Whittingham, Mary Ann, 

138. 



General Index 



305 



Wilkes, John, 88, 210, 230, 

239- 

William, Fielding's toot- 
man, 139, 147, 149. 

Wilson, Richard, 109. 

(Vine and Walnuts, W. H. 
Pyne's, io6n., i i2n.,277. 

Wolcot, Dr. ('Peter Pin- 
dar'), 99, no. 

Wonders of Derby shire , 1 i8n. 

Wood, John, 7, 9. 



Wood, ' Palmyra,' 186, 262. 
Wouverman, Philip, 99. 
Wright, 109 n. 

Yew Cottage, Bath, 2, 23. 
York, Duke of, 43 n., 84, 

122. 
Young, William (' Parson 

Adams'), 235 n. 

Zuccaielli, F., 95. 



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